Syntax
by seilleanmor
Summary: Things are supposed to follow an order. A season 5 story. No spoilers for any promos. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Syntax**

_n. ~ a system or orderly arrangement._

* * *

**November**

* * *

He can't tear his eyes away from her.

If he's honest (with himself, with her) he never has been able to, but it's different now. It's different, because he doesn't have to rely on his imagination to supply him with images of her naked body arching under his, her mouth open and gasping his name. He _knows_. He knows what that looks like.

He's gotten into trouble with her before now because of it. She tells him to stop looking at her 'like that' because it's not fair, they're at work and she can't do anything about it. He likes seeing her cheeks heat under his gaze, likes watching her fists clench because she wants him so badly. She denies it, but he knows it's true.

Yeah, he's not stopping any time soon.

She flicks a glance at him, her eyes not even staying on him long enough that she could have possibly registered anything more than his presence. He thinks (but is too afraid to ask) that she feels a compulsion to check he's still there.

He smiles at her, the grin that makes his eyes scrunch up. She must see it from her peripheral vision because a smile dances briefly across her face, a subtler echo of his own. It eases something in his chest.

He's worried about her. She's been more open since the night with the rain and the door and the-

Yeah, uh. _That_ night. She's been more willing to let him see the parts of her he's only dreamed of, metaphorically and literally both. But recently, the past week or so, she's been brittle. She's been quiet. She still comes over to the loft, eats dinner with him and his mother, curls up on the couch with him, but she's mostly a spectator.

He misses her. She's right here, and if he-

Better check, actually, do something to negate the doubt.

Yes, good. When he reaches out to touch her, the pads of his fingers mapping the ridge of her knuckles, she's still responsive. Her hand still turns under his and she still curls her fingers around his own, but it feels flat.

It sort of feels like an automatic reaction, and he's delighted with that, her being so comfortable around him, but when he gets right down to it, he knows. She's distracted. By what he has no idea, but something's worrying her.

He clears his throat, shifts in his seat and she sighs, her eyes still on the paperwork. "What, Castle?"

"Are you okay?" Oh, shit. That is not at all what he meant to ask. Not in the precinct and especially not with his voice all soft and concerned like that. He braces himself, tries to prepare for her telling (yelling at) him to 'act normal' for the hundredth time.

He looks at her with one eye closed, the other so scrunched up he can barely see, already wincing. She stares at him for a second, her eyes soft at the edges, and then she shrugs.

Shrugs! He thinks he feels his jaw actually drop a little bit because Kate Beckett does not _shrug_. Not ever. It's far, far too close to a yes for her to consider it.

He rocks his weight onto his feet and pulls his chair around the corner a little, sinks back down onto it. He leans forwards, takes her hand off the desk and holds it in both of his.

He is absolutely one hundred percent breaking the 'no PDA in the precinct' rule, but he couldn't care less. This is _Kate_, and she looks like she's about to break apart. She pulls her hand away slowly, shoots him an apologetic glance. "Please don't be nice to me. I can't hold it together when you look at me like that."

He leans back again, his eyebrows furrowed. "Uhm, okay?" He pushes his chair back as dramatically as he can, makes sure it clatters. "You, Beckett, are the most frustrating person I have ever met."

Too late, he realises his melodramatic display echoes their argument in her apartment a little too closely. He winces, but before he has a chance to backpedal Esposito is storming over from his desk and grabbing Castle by the collar. "What did you just say to her Writer Boy? Do we need to have another talk?"

The detective pulls him out of his seat and he yelps. "Kate, help." He almost shrieks it and really, Castle? Get yourself together. No shrieking in front of your girlfriend.

Yeah, so that thought doesn't exactly help him _stop_ shrieking.

Kate laughs and drops her pen onto the stack of files, turning in her chair to face him. "Relax, Espo. Castle was just…role playing."

Esposito wrinkles his nose and pretends to gag. "Oh, _nasty_. I so do not need to know what Mom and Dad get up to behind closed doors. No. Ugh." He hurries back to his own desk and busies himself in his stack of paperwork, casting surreptitious glances at the two of them.

Castle doesn't sit back down straight away, instead rearranging his chair because he knows how it grates on Kate's nerves when it's not exactly lined up with the desk. He sinks onto his haunches next to her chair and smiles softly up at her. "I'm gonna head back to the loft, get some edits done. Dinner?"

She beams down at him, scans the precinct quickly for any sign of Gates and, satisfied, leans forward to press her lips to his temple. "Yeah. Chinese?"

He nods, brushes his hand up her arm as he stands. "Sounds good. Text me when you leave here and I'll make sure it's waiting for you."

She grins her thanks, doesn't watch as he walks away. He's okay with that, because he knows she'll watch him later when he's falling asleep next to her.

He tries, he really does, but he just can't help himself. In the elevator, he texts her.

_Love you, KB._

* * *

The screen of her cell lights up with his text and she smirks because really, Castle? He hasn't left the building yet, he's probably still in the damn elevator.

She presses her finger to the screen, has to battle stupid, stupid tears at his message. Her screen swims as she taps out her response.

_Me too, NHC._

The first time he'd called her KB _after_, he'd been making pancakes. She'd been teasing him about what they mean, warning him not to brag to the boys, and he'd whacked her ass with his spatula and told her he'd 'retract the sentiment if you're gonna be so ungrateful, KB'.

He always addresses his texts to her that way now and it makes her ridiculous heart flutter every time, makes her think of _extraordinary_ and _gratitude_ and all the things written in between the words he did say.

She loves the dedications. She loves that he's not ashamed to show the whole world how he feels about her. Yeah, it makes her blush, but in a really good way. Her phone lights up again and she has to fight to stifle her laughter.

_I asked you not to call me that._

She wants to text back _sorry Kitten_, but he's been so sweet today that she can't make herself do it. Instead, she puts her phone down and refocuses her attention on the paperwork. He won't mind her not replying if it means she gets to the loft a little faster.

She had no idea it would be this easy. She has to work at it, of course, but it doesn't feel like work. Castle makes it so easy for her to love him.

She finishes the paperwork in record time, the siren song of Chinese food and Castle's couch and Castle's _mouth_ reeling her in. She calls out a goodnight to the boys as she shrugs into her coat, strides into the elevator and pulls out her phone.

She debates what to text and then changes her mind entirely and calls him. She just really kinda needs his voice right now. Badly.

"No Hassle Castle at your service."

She snorts, rolling her eyes without conscious thought. "I really hope you checked your caller ID."

She can almost hear his grin, the way his eyes scrunch up, how his whole face softens towards her. "Didn't need to. You have your own ringtone."

She leans against the elevator wall, runs her free hand through her hair. "Do I even want to know?"

He chuckles softly and then starts singing to her. "She's so lovely, she's so lovely." The smoky rasp of his voice sends shivers down her spine and she presses her fingertips to her mouth, tries to cage her smile. She wants to save it for later, so he can get to see it.

She's trying so hard to remember how little things like that, just a smile, can make his day. "Scouting For Girls, really?"

"_What?_" He sounds indignant and she smirks. "I _like them_."

"I know you do." She does feel pathetic, sometimes, the way her voice gets so soft. She just can't help it. She's so in love with him.

He ploughs on. "And come on. 'You're funny, you're yummy'? This song was made for you."

She snorts again, the sound cut in two by the ding of the elevator announcing her arrival in the parking garage. "I'm _yummy_?"

"Sexy, hot, beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, breath taking."

"Okay okay okay, jeez. You don't need to recite a thesaurus." She's grinning though, even as she says the words.

"Sorry." He doesn't sound sorry at all. "Hey Kate? If you want me to order dinner I'm gonna have to hang up."

She doesn't want him to hang up. She wants to have the distraction he provides, because she knows that if she doesn't then for the whole drive home she'll be consumed with it. The fear.

She sighs, tries not to let him hear and fails miserably. "I know, love. I don't want to hang up either. But I promised you food."

She hums softly. "Yeah, okay. See you soon."

* * *

He was waiting by the door when she knocked. She'd sounded so dejected on the phone and he doesn't want to waste a second of tonight. He opens the door and she looks up at him, so much sadness haunting her eyes that it cleaves him in two. He steps forwards, presses his lips against hers. He snakes an arm up around her back to rest between her shoulder blades and hold her to him, laves at her bottom lip with his tongue.

She pushes back on his chest suddenly and he's hurt for about a second. And then the awkward cough makes its way to his brain and he sees their delivery boy hovering a few feet away. "Uh, Mr Castle? Your delivery?"

Kate buries her face in the crook of his neck and he grins, wraps an arm around her waist. He fumbles in his pocket for cash, pays the kid, making sure to include a generous tip. Once the boy is gone Kate takes a step away from him, pokes his chest. "You can't just maul me in the hallway, Castle. That poor kid. You couldn't have just let me in?"

He shrugs, shoots for a boyish grin. "No coming in the apartment unless you're smiling."

She raises an eyebrow at him, her whole face suddenly alight with mirth. "No _coming_ in the apartment? That might be an issue."

He tuts at her even as he's circling her wrist and tugging her inside. "You are filthy."

* * *

She puts it off as long as she can. She makes light conversation with him over dinner, drinks two glasses of wine but refuses his offer of more. She helps him fill the dishwasher, wipe the table, and when they're done she slides her hand into the back pocket of his jeans and tugs him towards her.

She stretches up on tiptoe, scrunches her toes up inside his socks. She doesn't usually wear socks with her heels, and when she comes straight to the loft after work and takes them off her feet are always freezing. So she wears his socks.

Her mouth meets his and it's still just as electric, just as wonderful as the first time and the hundredth time. He doesn't let it go too far, puts her off when she tries to snake her tongue past his lips and she sighs.

It's time.

She takes his hand and leads him over to the couch, laces their fingers together. She lets him sit down first so she can curl against his side, her legs tossed over his lap. His free hand settles on one of her knees, squeezes gently. "Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong, please."

All of a sudden, she can't look at him. Her gaze falls to their still joined hands, the way his thumb smoothes back and forth across the back of her hand. He's always so tender with her, so attentive and loving. She's never been with someone like this before, never given herself to someone so wholly and received such adoration in return.

She swallows hard, takes a fortifying breath. "It's-uh. It's my dad."

"Jim?" The concern is already painting itself across his face.

She raises an eyebrow at him. "No Rick, my other dad." She catches the hurt that flashes in his eyes and she nestles closer to him. "That was harsh. Sorry."

He presses a soft kiss to her temple. "What about your dad?"

She screws her eyes closed and wills the tears not to come, tightens her grip on his hand. "He's sick."


	2. Chapter 2

**November**

* * *

Once she gets the words out it's like something breaks inside her. He watches it shatter in her eyes, watches them fill with glass and reflect his own horror back at himself. He's frozen in place until the first treacherous tear breaks free and then he's moving, gathering her into his arms and tugging her onto his lap.

He knows that she needs to be held tightly when she breaks, knows that she imagines it helps her hold all the fragile pieces of herself together. He rests his lips at the shell of her ear, whispers things he doesn't know.

He creates; he writes things into being to keep her safe.

She gasps, hot breath washing over his neck, all the signs of her strength feathering out around them like dust motes dancing in the air currents. She's fluid against him, the long line of her gorgeous legs, all the curves and planes of her shuddering in his arms.

"It's not fair," she grits out, and he wants to put his fist through the wall. "Things are supposed to follow an order. How many more people am I going to lose?"

He kisses her hair, leaves it covering her face because even now she hates for him to see the grief etched there, the swollen eyes and the blood hot under her paper thin skin. "You haven't lost him."

She makes a low keening all in her throat like an animal and it guts him, leaves him desperately sucking in air as he drowns in her sorrow. "I might."

"Oh, Kate. Sweetheart, what happened?" He cups her cheek in his palm, swipes his thumb under her eye.

She blinks up at him, her eyelashes clumping together. Her face crumples again, folds in at the edges like a house of cards, the straight line of her mouth a trembling current. "I got a call from his AA sponsor. Not the hospital. He _forbade_ them to call me." She chokes on that, a hand coming up to cover her mouth.

He's endlessly fascinated by her fingers, their cool loveliness. How long and thin and delicate, how perfect wrapped around a gun or wrapped around his own. It's like Morse code, the long dashes of her fingers cutting her mouth into dots.

"His sponsor went to his apartment. Found him passed out in a pool of his own vomit. No one even let me know until he'd been in the hospital for two days, _damn it_." He can see the fire rushing in her veins now, the way it pounds against her insides.

He skates his palm up her spine, settles between her shoulder blades. He's shooting for reassuring but he's floundering. She's never done this before; never let him see her fall apart so completely. "When was that? When did you find out?"

She swallows hard, her eyes closing. "Five days ago."

Shit. Okay Rick, just relax, just-

No. _Shit_. He can't handle any more secrets. "And you're just now telling me?"

She slides off of his lap and he's glad. He doesn't want to ever ask her to get off of him but he can't stomach this conversation with her so close that every breath tastes like the sweet musk of her skin. She clings to his hand and he's glad for that, too. However mad he gets, he can't stop loving her. He's tried.

"I'm sorry." She bites her lip and he swipes the pad of his thumb along the fullest part of it, rescues it from the grip of her teeth.

He tries to soften his voice, tries to push the hurt back. "So the other evening when you said you couldn't get dinner with me because you were busy, and I didn't ask or push because I know you value your space, you were where?"

"At the hospital." She lists into him, her nose bumping his clavicle, and his hands come up to cradle her of their own accord.

"Why didn't you _tell me_?" He hates how desperate he sounds, but he is. He is desperate for this to work, and it has been, mostly. Which just scares him even more because it's so good and he doesn't know what he'll do if he loses her now.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want it to be real, and I knew that once I told you I'd have to face up to it, accept it. I should have told you." She pauses, looks up at him. "I don't need you to get through this, but I don't want to do it alone."

He darts forward, presses his mouth to hers for just a second, just enough to try and show her how much her admission means to him. "I'm here. I'll be here. Did you see him?"

She shakes her head against him, rolls it to the side to lay on his shoulder. "No. He told the nurses he didn't want visitors and he wouldn't speak to me. I don't understand what I did." Her voice is a reed, thin and haunted.

"Oh Kate. Oh baby, no. It's not your fault." He catches her strangled sob in the crease of his neck, will hold it there so she doesn't have to. "Shh. It's okay." He hates to ask, but he has to know. "Do they know what's wrong with him?"

She whimpers, fists her hand in his shirt like she's holding on for dear life. "Cirrhosis of the liver. Caused by alcohol."

"I'm sorry love, I'm not a doctor. What is cirrhosis?" It crushes him to ask for clarification. He'd give anything to not have her clarify the horrific details of her father's illness, but he wants to know. He can't help if he doesn't know.

She curls in a little tighter, her knees drawing up to her chest, toes sliding under his thigh. "I had to ask Lanie." Shit. Honestly, Rick. _You_ couldn't have asked the medical examiner?

"It's caused when something kills the liver cells. When they die they form scar tissue, but the ones that don't die multiply to try and replace the dead ones. So then you get clusters of new cells within the scar tissue. And that destroys the relationship between the liver and the blood, which means it can't remove toxins properly."

He pauses for a second, tries to get everything straight in his head. "Okay. So how are they going to treat it?"

She lets out a bitter laugh, shakes her head at him. "They'll try to prevent further damage with a ton of drugs and a regulated diet. But its uh- it's irreversible. His liver function's just going to get worse."

"So he'll need a transplant?" She nods and his heart shatters in his chest, he could swear he actually feels the lethal shards of it slicing through his ribcage. "There's no other options?"

She stands up, paces away from him. "There's nothing. And I don't know that he can even afford a transplant, if he's still alive by the time he reaches the top of the waiting list."

He wants to stand up, go to her. Instead he clasps his hands, rests his forearms on his thighs. "Don't worry about money."

She runs shaking hands through her hair, turns to face him. "No, I can't ask you to do that Rick."

His jaw tightens and he's powerless to stop it. "You're not asking. I'm telling. You're my family and by extension so is your dad." She opens her mouth to argue with him and he ploughs through her. "You know I'd do this for Lanie and the boys and their families too. You know that, Kate."

She comes back over to the couch, sits down again. "Shit. _Shit_. Okay. Thank you."

She buries her face in her hands, her hair falling around her shoulders and blocking his view of her. He reaches out, runs his hand up and down her back, trying to soothe. "Don't freak out about the money thing okay. Just focus on being there for your dad."

She turns to look at him, her eyes red but dry again. "How am I supposed to be there for him if he won't let me see him?"

Crap. She has a point. "I could try and talk to him? Father to father."

"I don't know if he'd see you. My dad's pretty stubborn."

He raises an eyebrow at her, smirks. "You must have gotten it from somewhere."

She swats at his arm, curls her fingers around his bicep. "Yeah. Dad and I are very similar. Mom was always the laid back, happy one."

* * *

She doesn't understand why he's wincing, why his muscles are suddenly so hard under her hand. She furrows her eyebrows at him and he shifts in his seat, turns to face her. "You're not happy?"

Crap. That was so completely not what she meant. "Oh God Castle, yes, I'm happy. I can't remember ever being this happy. You know that."

He smiles sheepishly, shrugs. "I know. For the record, me too."

She leans in to him, holds him still with a hand at his jaw so she can meet his mouth. He's always so responsive when she kisses him, even when she's just kissing him goodbye before she goes to the precinct and he's still sleeping.

He doesn't usually travel to work with her. He likes to stop by their regular coffee shop first, buy her latte. At first, they'd been trying to avoid suspicion from the boys. And then they'd been caught holding hands in the break room.

It's still necessary, though, because the captain has a strict rule about no relationships between her detectives. Castle thinks they should just tell her, since he's not actually a detective, but Kate doesn't want to risk it.

She didn't say it out loud but he got the message; she doesn't want to lose his presence at the precinct.

His tongue snakes past her lips and her mind goes blissfully blank, white hot heat erupting through her as he explores the roof of her mouth. She pulls back, kisses his bottom lip once and then stands. "I'm gonna head home."

He stands too, grabs her jacket from the arm of the couch and helps her into it. "Okay."

She turns to face him, stretches on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "I'm sorry."

He laces his fingers through hers, squeezes. "Don't apologize for being you. I know you need alone time. It's okay."

"You don't mind?" She doesn't believe him. She knows how clingy he can get, how he wants to be with her all the time, wants to know what she's doing, how she's feeling. She's trying to be more open, and in return he tries to give her some space, but they're still working out the balance.

He shrugs, cards his hand through her hair, tugs on a curl so gently she could weep. "I can deal with you going. I know you'll come back to me."

She stretches on her tiptoes, presses her lips to the shell of his ear. "Of course I'll come back. I can't live without-" she blows softly into the whorl of his ear, grins as he shudders violently, "your coffee."

She steps back, sees his eyes screwed shut and lets out a peal of laughter. He opens his eyes and meets hers, suddenly so serious that her stomach lurches. "Call if you need anything. Okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

She doesn't call him. She wants to, when she sinks down into the bathtub and the shock of cold ceramic where she wants soft flesh makes her back arch. When it only takes her a minute to change into pajamas because there's no one chasing her around the room, trying to get his hands on as much of her naked skin as possible. When she gets into bed and she has the covers to herself and there's no snoring and there's no one trying to read her book over her shoulder, reading it out loud straight into her ear in a low voice that makes her ribs sing.

She wants to, but she doesn't. She'd hate to become one of those girls that can't go a half hour without talking to her boyfriend. It's important to her that she maintain her independence, and it's even more important that Castle learns how to cope without her with him at all times.

It doesn't stop her from missing him.


	3. Chapter 3

**November**

* * *

She might throw up.

Castle's holding her hand, about to try and worm his way into her father's hospital room and she might throw up.

He squeezes her fingers, leans in so his nose brushes hers. "It'll be okay."

A kiss, to breathe some life back in to her, and then he's letting go and opening the door and oh, God.

She moves back towards the elevator, a hand against the wall for support. Inside, she holds herself together until the doors slide shut and then her knees buckle and her forehead presses into the wall and her hand presses to her mouth and the fear presses against her and she tries not to weep.

* * *

Jim looks worse than he thought. He's a mystery writer, he's seen dead bodies, and he's still so devastated by the scene in front of him that he falters, finds himself utterly unable to move forwards.

And then he hears Kate's broken sobs, his neck damp with a phantom echo of her tears and he forces himself to move forwards, sink into a chair next to the older man's bed. He has to do this for her, no matter how much it's killing him.

Rick's gaze travels slowly across the man in front of him, his heart in his throat. The sallow skin is what gets him first, the waxy yellow so unfamiliar. Mr Beckett's hands are on top of the sheets, the bones of his wrists and his fingers so stark, so brittle and fragile.

He's glad Kate hasn't seen her father. This would destroy her. He can see even with the covers hiding most of Jim's frame that he's lost weight, his skin too big for the bones underneath, sagging and creased.

He's just about to leave, quite certain that he can't do this, can't sit next to another hospital bed with another Beckett and have another conversation that will crush him, and then Jim's eyes open.

* * *

She was going to wait for him in the cafeteria, but the smell of the hospital, the taste of the air, the tragedy encompassing the whole place is too much. Adrenaline pounds in her veins and her chest aches, the bullet wound throbbing and the surgery scar like a hot line of molten glass, sharp and burning.

She darts out the front doors, leans against the side of the building. She doesn't want to go too far. She has no idea how long it'll take Castle to convince her father to let her see him, and she has to be near when he calls.

Her father is no longer all she has, but that doesn't mean she can survive losing him.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Jim struggles to sit up, the reed of his arms failing to lift his torso. Rick watches, helpless. He doesn't want to belittle the man.

Jim finally manages to sit up, props a pillow behind his back and fixes his gaze on Rick. The writer realises with a start that the older man's eyes are yellow, the whites of his eyes swimming with it. "Kate asked me to come."

Jim snorts. "My daughter asked you to come but didn't join you?"

Rick shrugs, clasps his hands in his lap. "She thought you'd listen to me, father to father."

Jim coughs, bending double, his vertebrae visible through the hospital gown. He gasps for air, his hands clutching helplessly in the sheets. He sits up, takes a moment to just breathe, his eyes closed. "I know what you're going to say. The answer's no."

"Jim-"

"I don't want her to see me like this. I don't want her to remember me like this." Rick can relate. He's not sure he'd want Alexis to see him if he looked like Jim does now.

And then an image of Kate's face, broken and hurting, flashes across his mind. He's suddenly so mad he can't see straight. "A bastard in an alley stole Kate's chance to say goodbye to her mother. Don't you dare refuse her the right to say goodbye to you too."

Rick clenches his fists, his jaw tight. He respects this man, the closest to a father figure he has, but Kate comes first. Jim's face crumples, his eyes filling with tears, and guilt rushes through Castle's bloodstream.

"I'm sorry. Believe me, I understand. I don't think I'd want my daughter to see me like this either. But she needs you. She needs her dad."

Jim turns to look at him again, the pain in his eyes making Rick's breath catch in his chest. "How can she even look at me? How can she be sympathetic? I brought this on myself."

Rick nods slowly. "It's because of your alcoholism, right." Jim winces, his face lined with shame. "She forgave you for that a long time ago. She understands. You both coped in different ways. You drank, and she threw herself into the case."

"Her obsession isn't going to kill her."

Rick chokes out a disbelieving laugh, his eyebrows rising. "You're kidding. She got _shot_ because of it, Jim."

He sees the startling green of the grass and the too-blue sky in the older man's eyes and he winces. It still terrifies him. Even though her mother's case is done, even though she's finally safe, he's still afraid that something will rip her from him, leave him bleeding out into the space where she is not. "Just let her see you. Please. She needs this."

Jim rests his head back against the pillows, groans. "Okay."

Rick stands immediately, starts to walk away. Jim calls his name and he falters, turns back. "I'm so glad she has you. I couldn't wish for someone to love her more."

* * *

Her phone rings and she's trembling so hard it takes her three tries to press accept. "Please tell me he said yes."

Rick's answer is immediate, gutting her. "Yes. He'll see you. I'm on my way to the lobby."

He hangs up as she crashes through the front doors, tries not to run over to the elevator. The doors slide open and she steps inside, hits the button for her dad's floor and then falls into Castle's arms.

He rocks her back and forth, hushing her. "Kate. It's not good. He looks bad."

She steps back from him, clenches her fists. "I figured. I can handle it. I just need to see him."

Rick nods, reaches for her hand and squeezes her fingers. "Do you want me to be there with you, or do you want to be alone?"

She grits her teeth, thinks for a moment. "Alone. But don't go far."

He laughs softly, cups her cheek in his free hand, strokes his thumb over her eyebrow. "Like I'd leave you."

She turns her face into his hand, kisses his palm. Tries to fortify herself against the darkness. It does help, knowing that he'll be here afterwards, that he'll know exactly what she needs.

He holds her hand all the way to her father's door and then he kisses her forehead, tells her he loves her and leaves her alone in the corridor.

She pushes the door open, her heart pounding so hard she can taste it. Her father doesn't smile at her and she's glad. The muscles of her face are lax, there's no way she could return it.

She sinks into the chair by his bed, her spine bowing until her forehead hits his hand on the bed. She sits up again, clutches his hand in both of hers. It's so fragile she could cry. Maybe she is, a little. "Daddy." She chokes it out and her father reaches his other hand up to brush under her eye, wipe the tears away.

His hand is clammy against her skin; she has to fight not to shudder. "It's okay Katie. It's okay. Shh."

She shakes her head, bites her lip to stop it trembling. "It's not okay Dad. Look at you."

Her father huffs out a laugh, shoots for a grin. "Thanks, sweetheart. That makes me feel good."

She still can't smile back, settles for tightening her grip on his hand. "Are you on the waiting list for a transplant?"

Her father sighs, his head dropping back to the pillows. "Yes."

She swallows hard, the lump in her throat refusing to budge. "How long do you have without one?"

She doesn't want to hear the answer, but she has to know everything. "Couple of months."

She chokes out a sob, her grief fierce and all consuming. "Oh God, Dad."

"Hey now, it's okay. Shh. Come on. Katie, look at me." She shakes her head, eyes screwed shut. She jolts at the feel of her father's fingers under her chin, tipping her head up. So like Rick that she can't breathe. "I've made my piece with it. It's time."

She shakes her head fiercely, growls low and guttural. "No. Don't you dare give up. I'm not losing you to this."

Her father's voice is so peaceful and it crushes her. She doesn't understand how he can be so calm about this. "We don't have much of a choice."

She wants to stand up. She wants to pace. "No. We'll find something. There must be something."

"I've signed a DNR." It's so flippant that it takes Kate's brain a second to unravel the meaning of his words and then she's panicking, her heart trying to escape her chest.

"What? No, you can't- you have to unsign it." She's pleading with him and she hates it, hates how weak she is, but she can't deal with this. She can't.

Her dad shakes his head slowly, gives her a weary smile. "Sweetheart, I don't want them to resuscitate me. I'm ready to join your mom."

Her voice breaks in her throat before she can get a single word out and it's a battle to look at him. "You can't just leave me by myself."

He smiles again and she can't understand it, cannot comprehend how he could be _happy_. "You're not by yourself. You have your job, you have Rick. You have a whole life, a good life Katie. I'm so proud of you and I know your mom would be too."

"Daddy no. Please." She shakes her head and it feels like the hangar all over again and she can't lose this time. She half expects Castle to come swooping in and save her, but he won't. Not this time. "Do I have to beg you?"

"Katie. I'm not-" he sucks in a breath through his teeth, searching for words. As if there are any that could nullify the pain. "I still miss your mother so much."

"So do I, Dad." She leans forward in her chair, meets her father's eyes. "But I'm learning to live through it."

Another tear rolls down her face, drops off of her jaw, and her father shakes his head. "You should go home. You're upsetting yourself."

She stands so violently her chair skids backwards. "I'm not upsetting myself,_ you're_ upsetting me. You can't just give up." She hates that she's yelling at him but she can't help it, can't get her emotions under control.

Her dad crosses his arms, turns his head so he's looking out the window, away from her. It's always been his way to end an unpleasant conversation and she knows she won't get anything else out of him. She leaves without a backward glance.

* * *

He's waiting for her right outside. He's letting himself believe that she needs him, that she can't get through this without him, but he knows that's not true.

She's so strong; he knows she could get through anything. It's one of the things he loves most about her.

She doesn't look at him when she leaves the room, just closes the door carefully behind herself and wipes at her eyes. Her fingers come away smudged with mascara and he takes hold of them, wipes them off very carefully on his shirt. She watches him, his hands, and then she speaks. "Take me home."

He wants to hold her, wants to whisper reassurances in her ear, but he knows if he does she'll fall apart right here for everyone to see. He doesn't even let himself touch her until they're back at the loft.

She's carefully vacant, responding to all his questions but with nothing behind it. No emotion, just cold eyes watching him.

He circles her wrist with two fingers, tugs her into him. She stiffens, and then his arms wrap around her, hold her to him and all her muscles seem to dissolve, suddenly liquid against him. "Castle," she grits out, and it's evident how much it costs her. "I just want to sleep."

It's barely six pm but he won't question her, won't deny her this. He watches her climb under his covers fully clothed, waits for her to get comfortable and then climbs in next to her, sitting up against the headboard. She lifts her head, rests it in his lap and he cards his hand through her hair over and over.

He doesn't relax until she's asleep, her breath fanning out over his thighs, and he knows she's not hurting anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

**November**

* * *

He wakes up with her in his arms and it takes his breath away, even now, months later. He's endlessly fascinated by this side of her. The way her body curls in to him, seeking warmth and comfort. How breathtakingly gorgeous her face is in sleep, how serene. He loves the way she'll sometimes rub her toes against his shin but never remember it. He loves the soft snuffling noise she makes on every third breath, almost words but not quite.

He loves getting to kiss her awake, skating his lips over her temple, her cheekbone, down to her jaw and then cresting upwards to her mouth. Just a tender press, testing the ripeness of her bottom lip, tasting the night on her.

Her eyelids flutter, her lashes a staccato dance of ink onto ivory. He could write poetry about the near translucent skin for the rest of his life and still have more to say.

She opens her eyes, so green in the mornings, and smiles slowly at him. He's resting his weight on his elbow, looming over her, and she knocks his arm away so he falls, sprawled across her chest. She sighs as she wraps her arms around him, so content. So blissful.

And then she stiffens. He can almost feel her memory coming back to her, wrapping around her brain and starving her of light. He holds her close, rolls over and pulls her firmly against her chest, his hands carding through her hair. He doesn't speak, not sure a language exists that could make this easier for her.

"Morning." He doesn't tell her how beautiful she is. He did the first morning, so overwhelmed he didn't even think about not blurting it out. Only, he doesn't want it to lose its meaning, become cheapened by overuse. Worthless. She is everything to him, but he can't tell her as often as he'd like, terrified she'll stop believing him.

Every time he looks at her is like the first time, every time holds something new, another piece of her for him to learn, treasure. This morning, he sees a freckle near her ear he's never noticed before. He leans in, touches his mouth to it very gently. She's so precious that he feels it would be sacrilegious to show her skin, her bones, any less than careful reverence.

Sometimes she smacks at him, tells him to stop being so tender. Sometimes, this morning, she arches her back, soaks in his devotion. He maps her body with his fingertips, christening every plane and valley and ridge. She reaches up to him, her neck a graceful arc, her mouth insistent against his.

When she pulls away she's smiling. He'd never have pictured it that first year, maybe not even until the third, but Kate's smile is stunning. The kind that makes him feel like his guts have turned to water and gushed into his knees. "Hey."

Her voice shoots right through his bloodstream. He can almost taste her smoky desire; adrenaline and lust sealing his throat. He swallows, kisses the slope of her nose to buy himself time before he can trust his vocal chords. "Hi. Sleep well?"

She closes her eyes, burrows down into his arms, her nose pressing at his sternum. "Not finished yet," she mumbles, and he kisses her hair for that. So very in love with her.

He can't let her hide in his bed forever, though, much as he'd love to. He nudges her upwards until she's sharing his pillow, her face a breath away from his. "Don't hide. That's not the Kate I know and-" he cuts himself off, even now unsure of her reaction.

She brings her hand up between them, touches two fingers to his mouth. "You can say it."

He kisses her fingerprints, laying his DNA over her identity. "Love."

She crests the wave of his lip as he speaks, feels how the word shapes him. "I'm not hiding. I'm trying to learn how to lean on you."

He sighs, wants so badly to stay here with her. "Kate, we don't know how long your dad has left. Don't waste the time you have."

She grunts, pushes on his chest to earn herself some space. She still does this when he tells her something she doesn't want to hear, even now, but this is so much better than 'now get out' or three months of silence. "He won't see me. There's nothing I can do."

"Yes he will. I'll go in there and fight for your right to spend time with him every morning if I have to." He reaches his hand out, travels half the space between them and waits for her.

There's a beat of silence and then she laces her fingers through his own. "I was going to see Lanie. Ask her what we can do for him."

"Why don't you get Lanie to meet you at the hospital? She can discuss with both of you."

"All three of us." She sits up. Doesn't bother clutching the sheet to her chest, just exposes herself to him. It's ridiculous, really, how it gets to him. He's the one who undressed her after she fell asleep. "I don't want to put that pressure on her. I was just going to ask as a friend."

"Fair enough. I still think you should go see your dad, though." She closes her eyes, bites her lip. And not to tease him. He can see she's holding something back. "Kate, love, please talk to me. Why don't you want to see him?"

"Because I don't think I can do it." It bursts out of her and he blinks, stunned. She continues, quieter but fuelled by the raw passion he loves so much, is so afraid of. She's a constant juxtaposition. "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to be an orphan."

He lunges across the bed to her, guides her head to fit against the curve of his neck. "Oh Kate. Oh baby, I'm so sorry. Shh. It's okay."

She gasps into his skin, every breath ragged and keening. He runs his palm up and down her spine, fingers dipping into the valley of it. "Castle."

"I know. You don't have to do it alone. Not a single second of it. I'm here. I've got you. Shh." Her breathing slows, her body stilling in his arms. She wipes her eyes, sniffs, her breath catching on a stuttering sigh.

She sits up again, climbs out of the bed and starts tugging on clothes. About half of her things are at the loft now. He wants more than that, of course he does, but he's making it enough for now. She shoots him a look, effective even with her cheeks still wet. "Hurry up, before I lose my nerve."

* * *

She leans into his touch the whole way. In the car she guides his hand to her knee, needing the warmth. In the elevator she finds shelter in his arms again and when they step off she knots her fingers through his, trembling still.

She doesn't knock on her father's door, has to just push it open because otherwise she can't do this. She just can't. Castle nudges her to sit in the chair, lets go of her hand so he can drag his own chair over next to hers. She bites back a whimper, reaches out to hold her father's hand.

Castle settles next to her, his elbow on her arm rest, his whole body oriented towards her. "You holding up?" She nods, silenced by her dad's cold hand in hers. She's losing him piece by piece. His warmth will be the first to go as his blood draws in to surround his organs, push them to keep working. "If it gets too much you just say and we can go."

Her father starts to stir. His eyes fly open and he snatches his hand away from her, curling it in to his chest and cradling it with his other hand like she's broken him. His eyes scan her face and then he grins, reaches out to cup her cheek. "Joey. My darling. You're here."

She freezes, closes her eyes, has to concentrate on keeping the contents of her stomach where they belong. "No Daddy. It's me. It's Katie. You remember."

She watches her father's eyes sharpen with recognition, something volatile there. "Kate. You're back."

She wraps two fingers around his wrist, guides his hand down onto his bed. She can feel every atom of the skin he touched, a sharp awareness that cuts to the bone. "Of course I'm back."

"You don't have to be." Her father crosses his arms and she realises with a start that he hasn't even glanced at Castle yet.

She sighs, leans back into her chair, needing the support. "I can't stand the thought of you here by yourself."

Her father's eyes shutter closed, his face crumpling. "I don't want to do this to you. I don't want to upset your life."

She grits her teeth, battling to stay calm. "Dad, someone stole my chance to say goodbye to Mom. Please don't do that to me again."

Castle starts beside her, she sees him in her peripheral vision, the tension in his shoulders. She doesn't want to do this to him, put him through this, but she's too selfish to ask him to leave.

Her father opens his eyes again, looks at her. "Okay. No more arguments."

She tries a smile, her muscles quivering in protest. She needs a moment to get herself together. "I'm gonna go get some coffee. Castle, you want some?"

"I can get it." He shoots her a look and she tries to convey with only her eyes how badly she needs this. He nods, settles back in his chair. "Okay. My usual, then."

She stands. "Katie. I'll have coffee too. It's supposed to help, apparently."

"Okay Dad." She'll have to find a nurse, check that it's okay. She got her love of coffee from her father. When she was four or five she would come downstairs for breakfast and ask her father for coffee. He'd put a tiny splash in her mug, fill the rest with milk. It'd been their ritual all through school, one of the things she'd missed most at Stanford.

She slips out the door. Castle watches her go, his face soft and open with love for her.

* * *

Castle turns back to look at Jim, smiles sheepishly at the older man. "Sorry."

He grins, pats Rick's hand. "That's okay, son. When she was born I couldn't stop staring at her for days." Jim's eyes start to cloud with the memory and Castle's senses are flooded with a strange mixture of Alexis' red hair, her blue eyes so startled blinking up at him, and a little girl with Kate's eyes, Kate's nose, Kate's everything.

He closes his eyes, shakes his head to ward off the intense longing. It's too soon to talk about kids with her, he knows that. Doesn't stop him from burning for it. "I know the feeling."

Jim laughs. The contrast between the man in front of Rick now and the man he saw yesterday is startling. He knows Jim would never admit it, so like his daughter that way, but he needs his family through this. "I know you do. Does Alexis know?"

He shakes his head. "I didn't want to upset her in the middle of term time. Not in her first term." The similarity in the situations isn't lost on Castle. Kate had only just gotten into her second term of college when she'd lost her mom.

Jim nods slowly, clearly caught up in the same thought. The lines of his face are heavy with it. "How is she?"

He's not talking about Alexis anymore. "She's-" he hesitates for a second, debates the merits of being honest with the man. "She's not great. You know Kate; she wants to be strong so desperately. She hates how helpless she is in this."

He's suddenly struck with a bitter resentment towards the older man. How could he do this, put his daughter through this? How could he leave her to grieve her mother alone? And then it fades away, rushes out like a tide, leaves him weak.

If he lost _his_ Beckett woman, he knows he'd fall apart.

"And you're taking care of her?" Jim's eyes are sharp, Castle fights not to shrivel under his gaze.

He shrugs, wrapped up in helplessness. "When she lets me."

Jim shakes his head, chuckles. "Katie doesn't _let_ anyone do anything. You just have to do it. She won't ask, but she needs it."

"Of course. Whatever she needs." It's reassuring to know that he's doing this right, that her dad thinks Castle is what she needs.

"And after, when I'm gone"

"Jim-" He's not sure he can listen to this. Not sure his heart can take it.

"Hear me out. When I'm gone, don't let her draw in to herself. Don't let her stop spending the night with you. She'll say she needs space, but she'll need you. Promise me you won't let her feel alone." Jim's eyes are wet, his mouth a straight and unforgiving line. Castle reaches out, squeezes the older man's hand.

"I won't. I promise" He holds eye contact, tries not to wither.

He feels the air shift before he's consciously aware that Kate's back. He stands, goes to meet her in the doorway. He cups her elbows in his palms, leans in so his mouth meets her ear, his nose buried in her hair. "I just need a minute. I'll be right back."

He takes his coffee from her, steps through the still open door and searches for a chair, certain his legs aren't going to hold him.

* * *

She shoots her father a look as she hands him his coffee, sits down. "What did you say to him?"

Her dad laughs, the lines at the corners of his eyes so familiar. "Nothing. I think he just wants to give us a minute alone." She nods, her bottom lip between her teeth. "He's a good man, Katie. Hang on to him."

She smiles at her father, grips his hand. "I have no intention of letting him go."


	5. Chapter 5

**November**

* * *

He takes her to the park that afternoon. They don't have a case and she's on top of the paperwork, so there's no need for her to be at the precinct. She's been making a concerted effort since the summer to actually use her vacation days, to spend time with him outside of work.

He thinks she should tell the captain about her dad. She's going to need more vacation days as her father's condition becomes worse, and she's not going to be able to get them without a reason. It doesn't matter what he thinks, though, he knows she won't. She's not the type of person to sit and mope, to accept other people's condolences. She'll throw herself into her job and lose herself there, forget about her own pain while she helps the victims.

He's determined not to let her do that this time. Sometimes he has dreams where she pulls her ribs apart, lets him see her core. It's always bruised and blackened, damaged. He'll wake up gasping and look over at her sleeping next to him and hate that he still can't shake the images.

He's holding her hand now, the limbs of the trees above them bending towards each other, creating a canopy of green over their heads. He's watching the ground, the shadow patterns of the leaves across their feet. He squeezes her fingers, overwhelmed suddenly by how much he loves her.

Even after that first night he hadn't dared hope for this. For it to be so easy with her, so natural. For her body to shadow his so wonderfully when they walk hand in hand, for the way she smiles at him over dinner, nudges her hip against his when they brush their teeth. He wants all of her. Every day. All the time. He tries to tone it down because he knows she needs solitude just as desperately as he needs her, but it's a constant battle.

They walk past a hot dog vender and her face orients towards the cart, her nose scrunching up. He laughs, delighted with her. "You hungry?"

She startles, looking at him from under her lashes, that shy grin he loves so much painting her face. "Uh huh."

He nudges her towards the cart. The guy manning it is probably mid-twenties, his arms crossed and his mouth a straight and unforgiving line. Kate beams at him, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

The guy stands up a little straighter, his mouth curving up almost of its own accord, like it can't fight the draw of Kate's happiness. "Yeah. What can I get for you?"

She laughs, glances over her shoulder at Castle in question, her eyebrows raised. He nods at her and she turns back to the vendor. "Two with everything please."

The guy gets their hotdogs, hands them both to Kate. Castle takes them from her, frees up her hands so she can pay. They haven't really had a discussion about money yet. They just take it in turns.

She accepts her change with another smile. "Have a nice day," she says to the vendor and then she's taking her food from Castle. She won't hold his hand while they eat and he's sort of glad. It's a battle not to get his food all over himself anyway.

They reach the lake, find an unoccupied bench and she sinks onto it. Her sitting is more like falling and her brow creases in irritation at her body's betrayal. She looks good. She looks fine. But she's wearing sunglasses and he knows that underneath her eyes are hard and dark.

That's why she was so sweet to the hotdog guy, why she's letting him be so clingy, why she let him take her to the park in the first place. She's overcompensating, trying to force herself to be happy.

He joins her on the bench, at an angle so his knee presses into her thigh. She sighs, her head turning away from him. He balls up the wrapper from his hotdog, shoots it in to the trash can. He doesn't suppress his delight when his missile meets its mark, knowing she needs this from him.

He wipes his palms off on his pants, reaches up to brush her hair back behind her ear. "Hey. I know you're trying to be strong, but you don't have to be. Not here, not with me."

She grits out his name, her fists clenching in her lap. He takes the leftovers from her hotdog; aims at the trash can again, completely misses. She laughs, shakes her head at him. "Kate, I'm not trying to make you fall apart here. I just want you to know that it's okay if you need to. You don't have to pretend."

She rakes a hand through her hair, turns back towards him. "I know that. It's just that Dad told me yesterday while you were in the corridor with your head between your knees-"

He splutters, cuts her off. "I wasn't-"

"A nurse came to find me." She shoots him a look that he shrivels under even with her sunglasses hiding most of it. "She asked me if you were okay. I don't know what my dad said to you, Castle. He wouldn't tell me. But he did tell me that he wants me to be happy. Doesn't want to get in the way of my life."

He takes her hand, traces over her knuckles with the pad of his index finger, his thumb pressing into the meaty flesh of her palm. Her whole hand goes limp, the tension draining out of it. She hums her pleasure, darts in to kiss him.

He tastes her farewell before she stands, before she squeezes his shoulder. "I'm gonna go home."

He stands too, an arm around her waist to tug her in for a hug. "Okay. Alexis said she'll meet me here during her lunch break."

She lifts her chin to kiss his jaw, her hand at his cheek to hold him where she wants him. "Mm. Okay."

"Dinner tonight?" He tries not to sound too hopeful, tries to let her know it's entirely optional.

"Yeah. Out?" She steps back from him. He knows it's because if she doesn't she'll protract their goodbye, kiss him until he can't let her go.

He shrugs, his smile coming so easily for her. "If you want. I don't mind."

"Remy's then?" He nods and she grins, turns to walk away. He sinks back down onto the bench, watches her go.

He's always proudest of her when he's watching her from a distance. When he can see the way the trees dip towards her, desperate to taste her skin. How the whole world narrows to a focus on her. It's not just him, either. He sees the way other people, strangers, look at her. Little girls staring up at her as if she's a princess.

It made him jealous, at the beginning. But she looks at him like he's everything. And when she smiles, she smiles only for him.

* * *

Kate draws herself a bath. She still misses the bathtub from her old apartment with its claw feet and roll top. She owes her life to that bathtub. But then this one holds memories of lazy evenings with Castle. Him reading to her, washing her hair and massaging the day away.

Sometimes she's still struck with regret that she didn't do this sooner. Sometimes she aches for the memories she could have, wonders where they'd be now if they'd been honest then. And then other times she's glad, so very glad that they waited.

She ties her hair up, tendrils escaping and curling along her shoulders, her neck. She slips into the water, groans as it envelopes her. It's probably too hot, she's already getting lightheaded, but she needs it. She needs the comfort, needs the heat to help the tension drain away from her muscles.

She closes her eyes and rests her head back against the edge of the bathtub, her fingers skimming the surface of the water. Her mind has been moving too fast since she found out about her father's illness, the brief moments of peace when Castle's mouth meets hers not nearly enough to sate her.

She pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to stave off the rapidly developing headache. Her hand falls to her abdomen, protective over her vital organs. She's been doing some research. She needs to speak to Lanie, to her father's doctor. To Castle.

* * *

His daughter always lifts his mood. He sees the flash of red hair, watches her tug her hat down over her ears. She sees him, waves and hurries over to the bench he's still sitting on.

She sits down, presses a kiss to his cheek. "Hi Dad."

He grins at her. "Hey pumpkin. How was your morning?"

Alexis beams, sits forwards. She's so excited about college, so passionate about all her classes. Every time he sees her she has some new story to tell him, some other amazing experience to regale him with. "Really great. How are you?"

He knows he needs to tell her. He does. Jim is the closest thing to a grandfather that Alexis has, and the two struck up an immediately fierce bond. He takes his daughter's hand, wishes she weren't wearing gloves. The late November air calls for it though, crisp and fresh. "I'm fine. I just have some bad news."

His daughter tenses and for a fleeting moment he doubts the whether it's a good idea to tell her. But if she found out when it was too late, didn't get to say goodbye, she'd kill him. She's strong, his little girl. She can handle it.

He's been quiet too long; she's got his hand in a death grip. "Dad, what is it. You're scaring me."

He sighs, rubs a hand over his face. "It's Mr Beckett."

Alexis' eyes rove over his face, so startlingly similar to his own in color, but when he thinks about it, like Kate's in intensity. The way all her emotions play there so clearly, so very beautiful. "What's wrong with Mr Beckett?"

"He has liver cirrhosis. He's in the hospital. It's, uh- it doesn't look good." He squeezes his daughter's knee, unsure of how to comfort her. She's almost nineteen, he doesn't think she wants a hug from daddy anymore.

And then she buries her face against his shoulder, her hands fisting in his coat. He wraps his arms around her, his chin resting on top of her head. "Dad," she chokes out and it cuts him through.

"I know pumpkin. I know. It'll be okay." He strokes his hand through her hair, trying to soothe her the way he did when she was very small.

She pulls back, looks at him with red eyes. "How's Kate?"

"She's holding up. I'm making sure she's sleeping and eating. She'll be okay." He tries to inject some reassurance into his voice, tries to soothe his little girl.

His daughter nods, her gaze caught on the leaves around their feet. "Can I see him?"

"It's probably not a good idea, sweetheart." Her eyes snap back to his face, her mouth falling open. "He doesn't look great. It's upsetting, seeing him like that. I want you to concentrate on school."

Her hand comes up, her fingers covering her mouth. She's trembling and it breaks his heart. "Is he going to die?"

"Oh Alexis, sweetheart. We're looking into it. We're trying to find something." He can't say yes. Not to his daughter. She's too innocent.

She's insistent, that fierce spark he's so proud of igniting in her eyes. "You have to. You have to save him."

"I'll do anything I can. I promise you."

She nods, satisfied. "I should get back to school."

"Alright sweetheart." He hugs her again, breathes in the scent of her. "I'm having dinner with Kate tonight at Remy's."

"Can I come?" She blurts it out, bites her lip and looks at him from under her eyelashes. "Sorry. Never mind."

"No, that'd be good. How about I ask her and get back to you?" He hopes it'll be good for his daughter to spend time with Kate, hopes it'll help her come to terms with this.

He's just not sure that Kate's can keep up appearances in front of Alexis.


	6. Chapter 6

**November**

* * *

She stops halfway through getting out of the bathtub, watching beads of water sliding around her calf and down over her foot to the floor. She imagines Castle here, imagines him tracing the water's path with his fingers, with his tongue.

It still scares the shit out of her, how he's managed to creep into every aspect of her life. There's nothing she can do anymore without thinking of him, remembering a moment they've shared.

She wipes her hands under her eyes, checking for tears. They come away dry and she breathes a shaky sigh of relief, her other foot hitting the floor.

She snags a towel from the rail, wraps it around herself and pulls the plug. She sinks to her knees, her cheek hitting the ceramic edge of the tub, her eyes drawn to the way the water swirls down the drain.

Her phone vibrates on the side table and she groans. She's not sure how to put herself back together if it's a body. It takes too much energy to put on a brave face. She wants to curl up in bed with a movie and Castle.

She's not ashamed to need him anymore. She needs his arms, his scent, the effortless way he holds on to the edges of her for safekeeping while she tries to work out how they match up, how she fits together.

She grabs her phone, presses to accept without looking. "Beckett."

"Kate. Hi." His voice makes her muscles sing, her whole body surging upwards as if he's here, yearning to reach him.

She makes it to the door, her forehead falling against it. "Castle," she breathes, too exhausted to pretend for him.

She can hear his concern crackling over the line, imagines his eyes intent on hers. "Alexis was wondering if she could join us for dinner."

She groans, her free hand coming up to rub at the bullet wound. "I don't know if I can do dinner today."

He makes this noise, a cross between a hum and a sigh. She cants further into the door, utterly undone by him. "You flagging?"

She huffs a laugh, closes her eyes and sucks in a breath, pushes her chest out. Tries to force her lungs to fill. "Something like that."

"Rain check on dinner with my kid then." He doesn't sound upset and she's so grateful. She can't handle the guilt on top of everything else.

She gets the door open, fights her way along the corridor and into her bedroom. She sinks down on top of the covers, her towel falling open. "Rain check on dinner."

He laughs, so very soft, so tender with her. "Oh Kate. Kate. You know I'm coming over anyway. I'll bring takeout."

He hangs up before she can even start gathering the energy to argue.

* * *

He doesn't have to knock. Doesn't have to disturb her. He uses his key to open her door, drops the bags of takeout on the kitchen island and goes to find her.

She's curled in the foetal position on her bed, a towel half covering her. he tries not to rush, tries to move slowly so as not to startle her. he sinks onto the floor and slides his arms underneath her, transfers her very carefully from the bed to his lap, a hand cradling her head to his chest.

She mewls and it feels like she's tearing at his lungs with her bare hands. "Oh Kate. Oh sweetheart. Shh. It's okay. I'm here."

He holds her until she dozes off and then he shifts, his back against the edge of her bed. He strokes a hand through her hair, traces the line of her vertebrae. He wants to get her dressed, afraid of how cold her skin is against his, but there's no way he's moving now.

When she stirs-

Oh, God. When she stirs in his arms and she blinks up at him, her face splitting apart with her smile, her fingers tracing over his face. When she shifts, her torso burying further against him. His heart thuds so hard he can feel the walls of his arteries and his veins crying out.

He strokes her hair back off of her face, his lips ghosting across her forehead. "Hey. I brought Remy's to you."

She stares at him, her eyes hazy. "You did?"

"Uh huh." He kisses the end of her nose, her chin, arcing up to her temple. "I'll go reheat it while you get dressed. Okay?"

He tries to shift her from his lap as gently as he can, his hand at her ribs until he's sure her feet are properly under her. The way she looks at him as he walks away stirs something visceral and hot in him, his chest in a harmonious crescendo.

She catches him staring at the microwave, watching their food spinning around and around inside. Her hands slide around, link at his stomach, her cheek warm between his shoulder blades. She's wearing her NYPD sweater, the one that's way too big for her. He knows she likes it, knows she loves burrowing down into it on the couch.

He turns in her arms, his head dipping to rest his forehead against hers. "Okay?"

"You brought Remy's to me." She tries for a smile. It's more of a grimace but he'll take it, anything she can give him.

"Yeah." His hand slides to the back of her neck, travelling up her spine to settle above her uppermost vertebrae.

She bites her lip, her head tilted to one side, taking him in. "I'm sorry."

He furrows his brows at her. She reaches up to brush her fingertips to the lines in his forehead and he snags her wrist with two fingers, brings her hand down so he can kiss the pads of her fingers. "What for?"

She traces his bottom lip with her thumb, her hips nudging him against the counter. "Not being strong enough for dinner."

He wants to groan. Instead he presses his mouth to hers, his knuckles tracing over her ribcage through the sweater. "Stop being ridiculous. I don't mind. Remy's on the couch with you is better than eating out."

She nods slowly, like the movement is meant entirely to help her brain catch up to his words. He nudges her, hands snug at her hips, towards the couch.

He debates for a moment over plates, cutlery, eventually deciding that it's not worth the effort. He's exhausted, and Kate-

Kate's on the couch, curled up into the corner with her eyes closed, her face oriented towards him and somewhere else entirely all at once. He sinks down on the other end of the couch, tugs her sock down to expose her ankle bone, his thumb smoothing over the achingly soft skin.

He passes her a hamburger and a carton of fries, shifts in his seat to get comfortable before he starts with his own food.

He's hungrier than he thought, half his hamburger is gone before he thinks to glance at her. She's watching him, eyes wide and lips parted. "Kate, please. Please eat."

She picks up a fry, pushes it past her lips. She doesn't have the best appetite anyway, and when she's stressed she eats like a bird. He remembers the fall after she was shot, the way she hid under turtlenecks and distance.

"Why are you doing this?" She seems almost as startled by the question as he is.

He gapes at her for a second, drops his fries to the coffee table so he can move towards her. He fights his way half underneath her, shunts her awkwardly into his lap. "Doing what?"

"Being here. Letting me cry on your shoulder. Reminding me to eat. Why?" She's a cold and brittle mass of bones against him, all of her jostling and sharp.

He kisses her cheekbone, hovers there until he feels the spread of his warmth through her and she relaxes. "Because of the way you smile at me when you wake up in my arms."

"How?" She hums into his jaw as his hands slip under her sweater. "How do I smile at you?"

His hands travel upwards, the milky skin of her sides prickling under his fingers. "Like I'm all you've ever wanted to see."

* * *

She can't seem to close her eyes properly. Her eyelashes are sticking; every time they meet she wants to blink her eyes back open.

She sighs, turns her face in to the pillow. It doesn't help. She doesn't have to say anything, doesn't even have to move. He can sense the tension rolling off of her in waves.

She hopes she doesn't drown him.

He comes back, cursing quietly in the darkness. He's still not used to the layout of her bedroom, still trips over the corner of her bed every time. She's caught up in a strangely fluid half-sleep; it takes him years to wade through to her and slide his hand down her spine.

"Katie. Hey. I made you a playlist." She hums, rolls over to look at him.

She can't say anything to him; her vocal chords are always the first thing to fall asleep. She just nods, reaches out for the ear bud. He presses play, takes the other ear bud for himself and slings an arm low over her back.

She likes to sleep on her stomach. He likes her in his arms. They compromise.

* * *

When she sits bolt upright in the middle of the night, her hand squeezing his hard enough that he genuinely fears for his bones-

When she turns to him with still asleep eyes, her horror stark and all too real-

It scares the shit out of him.

He folds his arms around her, tries to make her safe. Whispers things he can't know into her ear so she knows he's here.

She fights her way out of it, battling back to him. "Hey," he says, when her eyes know him again. "What happened?"

She shakes her head, hand pressed to her mouth. "I can't. Please. Go back to sleep."

"Kate-"

"My mom was ashamed of me. She said it was my fault, that I didn't save Dad, I didn't get justice for her, I don't deserve you." She spits the words at him and then her face crumbles and she lies back down, carefully distant.

He doesn't go back to sleep after that.


	7. Chapter 7

**November**

* * *

Before he blinks his eyes open, before the awareness creeps back in, he's searching.

His hands skimming the surface of the sheets, feeling not just for her but for any sign, any trace of warmth. He knows she was here, can still taste her at the back of his throat. He can still feel her skin so hauntingly soft under the ministrations of his fingers, his careful reverence. He can still hear her laughter, the way she throws her head back, eyes screwed shut.

Joey.

It comes back to him in increments, his body remembers before his brain. There's a quiet moment, the breath between pulling a trigger and the bullet meeting its mark, and then it's a cacophony, a choir of torment singing for absolution behind his ribcage.

Jim opens his eyes, the sight of the hospital helping his body to remember. The pain is a part of him now, the raw edge he grates against with every movement. He's not surprised by his illness. He's been waiting since he lost her for this, for his body's revolution. He palms his abdomen, tries to settle his organs the way he used to settle his daughter, his wife.

It's not morning. His brain function is worsening as a side effect of his liver's inability to remove the toxins in his blood. It takes a little longer for him to stop looking for Johanna with each time he wakes up.

Every time his Katie visits, the moment he doesn't recognise her stretches. Becomes something fluid and dangerous. He thinks, in the darker moments, that she can see it in his eyes. They'd warned him about the changes in sleeping pattern and mood. They hadn't told him he'd forget his daughter and be unable to forget his wife.

He doesn't mind the sleep thing so much. It means he's tired in the day when Katie visits, but he can handle that. The night nurses are less intrusive, the hospital quieter. He doesn't have to battle his thoughts back, keep them from his face. He's free to let himself drown.

He thinks about his girls a lot.

He misses his wife so much. Even now, so many years later. He knows she'd hate him for this, for what he put their daughter through then, what he's doing to her now. He wishes it had been him instead, not just because he'd give his own life for hers, but because he knows she wouldn't have lost herself the way he did. He knows she would have put their daughter above everything, gotten her through it.

He still can't think about Katie without the grief, the guilt and the sorrow. He doesn't want to leave her, but he doesn't want her to have to bear the burden of him anymore either.

He's left her before. And it's different this time. She's not by herself.

He wonders how different things would be if Rick Castle weren't in the picture. He wonders if he would fight harder, battle to stay alive for his little girl.

He fucked her up. He messed up his daughter's life and Castle helped her put it back together. Jim knows he has the younger man's respect, no matter how much he doesn't deserve it.

He strokes two fingers over the IV line, closes his eyes again. It's too easy to give up, too easy to let his body shut down.

He sinks back down into sleep and his wife's waiting arms.

* * *

She can't meet his eyes in the morning. She wakes up alone, but she can hear him in the kitchen. She pads out to meet him, the too long toes of her socks flapping against her tiles.

He hands her a mug and she wraps both hands around it, holds it to her sternum and breathes it in. "Thanks."

His eyes are too tender on her, too much concern for her to shoulder. "Kate-"

She takes a sip of coffee, hums as it slides down her throat. "Good coffee."

"Kate-" he's more insistent now. She already knows what he's going to say and it's too early, she's too vulnerable, she can't do this now.

"Castle, _please_. Let me drink my coffee. Please." She grits her teeth against the wash of guilt. He's asking too much, things she can't give.

He nods, runs a hand through his hair. He looks rough, the skin under his eyes blue and puffy. His cheeks sallow and scattered with stubble. "Did you get any sleep?"

He looks at her, confusion flitting across his face. "Do you care?" He's cutting her off before she can even get her mouth open. "Sorry. That was harsh. I know you do."

She turns her back on him, goes to the couch because she can't stand up anymore. He joins her, keeping a careful distance. "I don't want to drag you down with me. I don't want to hurt you."

His shoulders are set against her, the lines of his body too hard. "Don't do that. Don't make decisions for me." She could cry. She's standing on a wavering line, swallowing it back again and again. "You can't just decide that you don't deserve me. That's ridiculous."

He doesn't list the reasons why she _does_ deserve him and she's grateful. That would gut her, right now. She's crumbling. She can taste the reluctance of each heartbeat.

"I've been doing some research." She taps her fingers against her mug, nails clinking. She can give him this and no more. Not right now. "There's a way we could save him. Without waiting for a donor."

He turns to her, his face suddenly open. "Yeah?"

"Uh huh. I spoke to one of his doctors. There's this procedure called living donor transplantation." Castle pales, his fists clenching. He's a smart guy. He knows what that means, what she intends to do. "It's where a relative of the patient, someone whose tissue matches, donates a part of their liver. About seventy percent. It's an amazingly resilient organ, it would totally regenerate. Be back to a hundred percent function in about four weeks."

She can see the tension in his jaw where he's gritting his teeth. "I gave a blood sample at the hospital. They're supposed to call with the results today."

He rests his elbows on his knees, his hands cradling his head. "Kate. Why didn't you discuss it with me first?"

"I don't need your permission. I'll do what I have to if it means saving my father's life." She's too tired to fight him, there's no spark behind her words, just the cold that's rolling in around her lungs.

He shifts, his body angling towards her, miles still between them. "I don't mean for permission. I just would have preferred for you not to spring this on me."

She sees his point. She does. These are the things that scare her most, these are the moments that hold the potential to destroy them. "I didn't want to upset you for no reason. Didn't see the point if it turns out I'm not a match."

"Upset me? It terrifies me." He moves towards her, his hand coming up to cup her cheek, elbow pressing at her stomach. Sometimes her face feels too light without the weight of his hands on her.

She's not sure how to do this. He's looking at her like she's precious and she doesn't know how to explain to him that her own body means less to her than her father's life. "It's not a major operation. Quite low risk."

"I know." His fingers slide into her hair, gentling her. "But the thought of you in hospital again. And then what happens with recovery time? What about your job?"

She brings her leg up, her knee settling in his lap. "I haven't let myself think about it yet. I don't want to get my hopes up."

* * *

Her phone rings while she's in the shower. He's not sure what to do, whether to answer it or not. He snatches it up from her side table, pushes the bathroom door open.

"Kate." She pokes her head around the shower curtain, her hair damp and curling in wisps at her temples. "Phone."

She shuts off the water, looks at him helplessly. "My hands are wet. Castle, my hands-"

"Here." He presses accept, holds the phone up to her ear for her.

She swallows. "Hello? Yeah. Yes. Oh, really? Uh huh. Yeah. Okay. Yeah, that's fine. Thank you. Bye."

He hangs up for her, watches as she rubs her hands over her face. "Kate?"

"I'm a match." She looks at him and laughs, the shock raw in her eyes, parentheses around her mouth. "Castle, I'm a match. I can save his life."

He forces a smile for her, passes her a towel. She doesn't seem to have noticed the gooseflesh creeping up her arms, across her ribcage. "That's great. What happens next?"

She steps out, holding on to his arm for balance. "A consultation with me and my dad so we can discuss exactly what the procedure entails. An appointment cleared up, they want me there at three. Today."

"Oh. Wow. Did your dad agree to it?" Somehow, he can't see Mr Beckett being particularly keen for Kate to give him her liver.

She snorts. "No. That's the next part. Convincing him."

He follows her from the bathroom, sits on her bed and watches her get dressed. She tugs on her socks, turns to face him. He holds his hands out to her and she takes them, laces her fingers through his. He tugs until she's standing between his knees. "Can I go with you?"

There's no flash of doubt. Just calm certainty rolling off of her. "Yeah, of course."

* * *

She loves fall. She loves the crisp air and the bite of the cold before it becomes uncomfortable. She loves scarves and hats and coats. She loves the turn of the leaves, the colors that leave her breathless. She loves how it feels like a catharsis.

She loves fall, because that's when he comes back to her.

She makes him walk to the hospital with her. He grumbles about it, makes a show of breathing so heavily that she can see it. She smacks his arm, takes his hand in hers. She can't lace her fingers through his because of her gloves, so she settles for the kiss of their palms.

She likes walking with him. He always has a story to tell, or something to point out to her. It gives her the opportunity to see the world through his eyes and she needs that. "What would you do? If it was you and Alexis."

He falters, glances at her. "I don't know. I don't know that I could let her go through that for me."

A part of her knows that. She's got no plan, no dialogue mapped out, nothing she can think of to say that will convince her father to let her do this.

"Yeah. But I can't lose him Castle. You understand? I can't." She arranges her scarf with her free hand, fiddles with the button of her coat.

He squeezes her fingers, tugs her against him. "I know. I'm on your side in this. I promise."

She wishes that made it easier.


	8. Chapter 8

**November**

* * *

"Dad?"

The door to his room is open. She raps on it gently with her knuckles, watches her father for any response. Castle is a solid presence behind her, his warmth soaking through her shirt. Her father is asleep.

Kate steps into the room, Castle moving to stay with her. She settles into her chair, crosses her legs at the knee. She won't wake her father. He's told her before now that he wants her to, that he wants to cherish the time he has left with her. But with him in front of her, his chest rising and falling so easily, the lines of pain gone from his face-

She can't. She can't do it.

Castle takes her hand, cradles it between his, strokes his thumb over her knuckles. It does something to appease her heart, tame the struggling thing in her chest. He doesn't say anything, doesn't push her. Just the slow sweep of his skin over hers and his breath a metronome to help her stay balanced.

* * *

When Jim's eyelids start fluttering, when his face creases, when his hands fly to his abdomen. When the pain comes back in blinding waves that tug him under, leave him exhausted on the shore over and over, Rick doesn't wake Kate immediately. Her head is heavy on his shoulder, her breath the whispered secrets against his neck.

He can't wake her for this; have her watch her father struggle to catch his breath. When Jim settles back against the pillows, his face smoothing out, the pain under his control again, Rick can turn his head. He can press his lips to Kate's temple, free fall down to her cheekbone and skate along it, find her ear.

"Kate. Wake up. Your dad's awake. Come on sweetheart. Wake up."

She groans, turns her face into his shoulder, lets out a shuddering sigh. He feels the loss when she sits up from him, can't help but smile as she rubs at her eyes.

When he turns back to Jim the older man is watching them, his face soft all over. "Katie. Hi sweetheart."

She manages a smile for her father and Castle's ridiculously proud. Still, even now, he wants to sing it from the rooftops, tell everybody that this amazing, beautiful, strong woman chose _him_.

"Jim." Rick leans forward, shakes the other man's hand. He never really had a male role model, learned the art of being a gentleman from classic movies. It means he still clings to the idea of manners and class, still puts Kate and her father before himself.

Jim's eyes rake over him and he fights to resist the urge to sit up straighter, adjust his jacket. Suddenly everywhere that he's touching Kate burns. He feels like a teenager meeting his prom date's father for the first time. "Rick. Good to see you again. You're well?"

He wants to laugh at that. He can't help but wonder how Jim can find it within himself to care about other people's health. Castle clearly has a lot left to earn about dignity. "Yes. I'm fine. Thank you."

Jim opens his mouth to reply but Kate cuts him off, her voice too sharp. "Dad. I need to talk to you."

Her father starts to struggle, his hands clenching uselessly in the sheets. Kate tugs her hand from Castle's grip, moves to her father's side and eases him up, a hand at his ribs. There's a beat of tension between the two, a moment where they reflect on the role reversal.

Castle can't help but wonder how many times her father had to help her sit up, get dressed, bathe, during that summer. He still aches over it, still would give anything for it to have been him instead. And sure, he knows she would have hated him and it would have ruined them and this beautiful thing they have now, but that doesn't stop the longing.

Kate squeezes his thumb, looks at him and takes a breath before she turns back to her father. "Dad. There's, uh- I found. Uhm." She closes her eyes, swallows hard. He's fascinated by the movement of her throat, wants to press his lips to her. "There's a procedure called living donor partial transplantation. Your doctor's coming to talk to us about it in a few minutes."

"No." There's a hard edge of steel to Jim's voice that makes Castle flinch, makes Kate's hand tighten around his.

He can see from the line of her shoulders how badly she wants to yell, how the need to fight burns in her. "Dad. This is a chance to save your life. Please listen to the doctor."

Jim shakes his head, his lips thin. "No. I don't want to save my life at your expense. I told you. I'm ready."

"I'm not." She whispers it, her words tracing fire into Castle's bloodstream. He breaks for her, over and over, every syllable a precise and measured knife wound. "I'm not ready to lose you."

There's a knock at the door before Jim can respond. All three heads turn towards the sound, Kate's hand suddenly gone from Castle's. He understands, knows she wants to appear strong to this doctor. He still misses her.

He stands, feels Kate rising next to him. The doctor moves further into the room, shakes Kate's hand first and then Rick's.

She's young, younger than he'd been expecting. "Doctor Harris." He offers her a charming grin, squeezes her hand.

The woman smiles back, gestures for them to take a seat. "Please, Elyse is fine. Miss Beckett, good to see you again. Mr Castle I presume?" He nods, sits back down. He's hyperaware of Kate's every breath, poised to hold her up if she starts to break.

The doctor drags a chair over to the bed, positions it opposite Kate, the bed between them. She turns to Jim, shakes his hand. "Good to see you awake, Mr Beckett. How's your pain?"

Jim shrugs, his breath breaking on a sigh. "Manageable."

"Good, I'm glad to hear that. So, Kate, I understand you wanted to talk with me about the possibility of a partial transplantation?" Castle doesn't notice until she smiles, but the doctor is also much more attractive than he was expecting.

He regards her with a detached interest, noting the warm gray eyes and the blond hair pouring over her shoulders without really seeing it. How could he, when every time he closes his eyes he sees Kate's sleepy morning smile, the curl of her hair around his fingers.

"Yeah. I just want to know more about it." He's so proud of her, the way her voice doesn't even waver.

The doctor – Elyse – leans forward in her chair, her hands clasped. "Well, your tissue is a match, so that's the biggest hurdle out of the way. My main concern is the stress it would put your body under so soon after your heart surgery."

Kate's hand ghosts up to the bullet scar, her fingertips massaging the raised tissue. "It was eighteen months ago. Physically, I'm totally fine."

Elyse purses her lips, her head tilting to the side. "It was a serious trauma. You experienced cardiac arrest twice. We have to be sure your body can handle what we're asking of it. Ultimately, however, it's not my decision. You're aware of the risks, it's up to you."

Jim coughs pointedly, his arms crossed. "No it's not. It's my decision. You can't rip her liver out of her, put her through that, if I refuse to accept it."

Kate falters, looks at Rick, her despair so very clear in her eyes. He leans forward in his seat, meets the older man's eyes. "With all due respect, Sir, I don't think it's fair of you to refuse. I know it's not my place-"

"You're damn right it's not your place. This is between me and my daughter." Jim grits his teeth, so much determination in every line of his face.

Rick drops a hand to Kate's knee, squeezes. "As a father, I understand where you're coming from. If it were me, and Alexis wanted to do this-" he breaks off, the thought all too real, too much. "But Kate needs this. She needs you. It's not fair of you to make her watch you die knowing she could have saved you if you'd given her the chance."

Jim shakes his head, a tear breaking free and sliding down his face, getting lost in the stubble decorating his jaw. "What happens afterwards? When she's recovering. When she runs away with her tail between her legs?"

"Dad-" she's livid, her shame rolling off of her in waves. He wants to give in. It kills him, how much this hurts her.

"No, Katie. You know I'm right." Jim's so brittle, none of the fatherly warmth Rick imagines when Kate talks about him.

"No. You're wrong. I know how to let Castle help. I can let him take care of me now." She won't look at him, and that's okay. He doesn't know how he could not kiss her if she met his eyes.

Doctor Harris clears her throat, her gaze focused on Jim. "Mr Beckett, I understand your reservations. But not only would the operation be in your best interest, the strain on your daughter would be minimal compared to that if she were to lose you."

"Dad please. I'm begging you. Please let me do this. I can't lose you." Kate's hands are trembling; she folds them in her lap, the veins in her wrists too blue.

Castle jumps in, can't help himself. Shutting up has never been his strong point. "For what it's worth, you don't need to worry about Kate after the surgery. I'll be there. I'll take care of her."

Jim grunts something unintelligible, rubs his hands over his face. "I'm not going to like it, Katie. I won't ever be okay with it."

"You don't have to be. You just have to be _here_." A tear breaks free, starts its journey down Kate's face. Castle's there to catch it, his thumb resting at her chin a moment, pausing for breath.

"Okay. Okay. Christ. Yes. You can do the damn surgery." Jim drops his head back to the pillow, his eyes screwed shut.

Elyse beams and Castle can see in her eyes how desperately she wants to help Jim, save her patient. "That's wonderful. Well Kate, the first step is going to be for you to fill out a health check questionnaire. There are three stages of assessment for you to get through after that before the surgery can go ahead. We'll try to get through them as fast as we can, but it could take up to six months. The most important thing you can do now is remain in excellent physical condition. I'll give you an information leaflet on that. Is that okay?"

Everybody nods and the doctor stands, brushes her hands down her thighs. "Wonderful. Kate, if you want to stop by my office and schedule an appointment for the questionnaire on your way out. Thank you."

She smiles, holds eye contact with each of them for a moment and then she's gone, a nurse snagging her attention in the corridor.

Castle grins, darts in to press a kiss to Kate's cheek because he can't resist her a second longer. "Wow. She was nice."

Jim lifts his head, shrugs. "Yeah. She's been great. If you two don't mind, I need a while alone to process this. I'll see you tomorrow?"

Kate stands, hugs her father. "Of course. Tomorrow."

Rick shakes the older man's hand again, slides his arm around Kate's waist on the way out of the door. He ducks his head, finds her ear. "You okay?"

She nods, her whole face alight with her smile. He didn't realise how badly she wanted this until just now. "Yeah. Let's go do a questionnaire."


	9. Chapter 9

**December – Stage One**

* * *

Even his knock sounds exuberant. She has to take a deep breath, swallow hard and force it not to grate against her nerve endings. She opens the door and he beams, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks and hold her in place while he kisses her.

He tastes like mint, his face cold under her fingertips. She slides her thumb back and forth at his jaw, his stubble deliciously rough. "Hey."

He smiles at her, nudges her backwards into the apartment. "Hi. It snowed." His eyes are alight with it, so innocent.

She laughs, shakes her head at him. "I noticed. Did you walk here?"

He takes a step back from her, suddenly sheepish. "I, um- yeah?" he offers, wincing pre-emptively.

She rolls her eyes, starts winding her hair into a braid. "Hey, it's not up to me to tell you not to do that, but don't expect me to nurse you when you get sick." She ties the braid off, lets it fall over her shoulder.

He tugs on the end of it, reels her into him and kisses her again. She swipes her tongue across the roof of his mouth, tastes that peculiar mint again. When he releases her she hooks a finger into his belt loop, anchors him to her.

He rests two fingertips in the dip between her clavicles, his thumb stroking along the bone. "Let's not worry about my health."

She sighs, her eyes closing. "Yeah. Why do you taste of mint?"

He beams again, so pleased with himself. "Had a peppermint mocha on my way. I love the seasonal flavors."

She furrows her eyebrows, pouts at him a little. "You didn't get me one?"

He stalls for a moment, takes her coat from the closet and holds it out for her to slide into. He watches her fasten the buttons, hands her a scarf. "I didn't know if you could have coffee so soon before a blood test."

"Oh." She shrugs, straightens his scarf. "After, then."

* * *

He really does try not to smother her. He sits a respectable distance from her, doesn't interrupt the surgeon during their discussion. He's trying to be a pillar of support, a very quiet pillar.

He doesn't watch her when she gets bloods taken, because he knows that if she so much as winces he won't be able to stop himself from taking her hand. He understands how important it is to her that she look strong in front of the doctors.

She'll let him hold her later, and that's enough. It has to be.

When she goes for an x-ray he has to sit in the corridor. The muscles in his thigh are taut, the tension making his whole leg bounce up and down. One of the nurses shoots him a sympathetic glance, comes over with a cup of coffee.

She sits down next to him, hands him the cup. He wraps both hands around it, can't bring himself to drink without Kate. He knows it's pathetic and she'd probably whack him if she found out, but it doesn't taste quite right without her grinning at him over the rim of her own cup.

The nurse pats his forearm, smiles gently. "It's always hard when you're the one doing the waiting."

Castle lets out a peal of dry laughter, picks nervously at the cuff of his button up. "I think she's the one who has to do the hard stuff."

The nurse nods at him, her eyes brimming over with warmth and consideration. Castle is struck with the momentary hope that this woman ends up being Kate's nurse. "Yes, but it'll help her to have you for support."

He shrugs, rubs his hands over his face. "I hope so. I guess I just want her to be okay." The nurse nods and he laughs, shakes his head. "Sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you this."

She pats his arm again, stands up. "It's not going to be easy for you, either. It never is to watch the people we love in pain."

He looks down at the floor, suddenly fascinated by the linoleum. "I'll just be glad she's letting me see her hurt, for once. Letting me help."

The door opens before she gets a chance to respond. When Kate steps out, the nurse holds on to her arm, her body blocking the way. "You're going to be just fine with that man taking care of you."

Kate smiles, dips her head. He can see how much it costs her not to tense up, not to force her way out of contact with this stranger. The nurse steps out of the way as if sensing Kate's discomfort and Castle stands, kisses her cheek when she gets to him.

"Hey there. X-ray okay?" His whole world pinpoints down to her, his fingers sliding through hers.

She nods, pulls her lip between her teeth. It looks raw, he'd like nothing more than to soothe it with his tongue, pull it inside his mouth. "Looks fine. I have to do some breathing tests now."

He kisses the end of her nose, chuckles as she blinks. It's an involuntary reflex he discovered the first time he got to kiss her good morning and he still loves it now. "Okay. Let's go."

* * *

He keeps spoon feeding her the cream from the top of his hot chocolate. She doesn't even like it all that much. She just likes the way his eyes soften at the edges and his pupils dilate when she wraps her mouth around his spoon and hums.

"Today was kind of a pain in the ass, huh?" He grins at her, tries to get cream on the end of her nose. She darts her head out of the way and smacks at his bicep across the table.

She shrugs, takes a sip of her coffee. She got a gingerbread latte because Castle demanded that she embrace the Christmas spirit. She likes it, but not enough that she'd want it every day. "I don't know. It's reassuring to know that I can breathe."

He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. She wishes she could slip out of her shoes, run her toes up his calf, but she's zipped into her boots and there's no way to do it inconspicuously. She settles for sliding her fingers up his arm, settling in the crease of his elbow.

"Yeah. So what's the next stage?" his fingers wrap around her elbow, squeeze.

She closes her eyes, finishes off the last of her coffee before she can look at him. "Liver biopsy. I'll have to stay overnight. They're scheduling it for after Christmas."

"Christ, Kate. You're still sure about this?"

She has to fight to stay calm. She knows it's his fear talking, knows that he'd do anything to stop her hurting, but it still pisses her off. "Yes, Castle, I'm sure. This is my dad's life we're talking about. I can handle it."

"No, I know you can. I just hate the thought of you being in pain." He lifts up out of his seat a little, leans across the table to kiss her. He goes to sit back down and she lifts a hand to his jaw, holds him in place. She hums against his lips, tasting the chocolate from his drink.

She lets him go, sits back a little in her own chair. "I know you do. But it's all going to be fine."

"Spend Christmas with me," he blurts, his hand immediately coming up to cover his mouth.

She sighs, her eyes pleading with him. "I can't. I'd love to, but I'm going to spend it at the hospital with Dad."

He reaches out, brushes her hair back behind her ear. "I could come too? Mother and Alexis won't mind, in fact I'm sure they'd love to help keep him company. We could make a little family party of it."

She doesn't try to hide her smile, doesn't even duck her head. She just lets it spread across her face, lets him see how happy he makes her. "That would be so wonderful, Castle. If you're sure your family won't mind?"

He lifts the hand he's somehow holding, brushes his mouth over her knuckles. "Half my family are already okay with it."


	10. Chapter 10

**December – Stage Two**

* * *

She doesn't let him come with her.

Not because she doesn't want him there, not because she doesn't want him to see her weak. But because she knows that he'll see straight through her calm façade, see how nervous she really is.

If he comforts her, tries to make it better, she will fall apart.

She doesn't keep it from him either. She calls him in the taxi on the way to the hospital, laughs at his jokes with her eyes closed. He tells her he loves her before she hangs up, his voice suddenly so soft.

She doesn't doubt that he'll show up later, after the procedure; probably try to finagle some way that he can spend the night with her.

When she gets there the receptionist sends her straight up to the ward, gives her a gown to change into. The material scratches at her skin, aggravates her surgery scars. She settles into the bed, gets the case notes she brought from her bag and checks them over.

Gates gave her two days off for the biopsy on the condition that she make use of the time she spent waiting around and go over her recent cases. She's glad for the distraction, honestly.

* * *

He needs a distraction.

He can't write, can't tear his mind away from Kate for long enough to contemplate Nikki. The fictional woman is irrelevant compared to the real one, especially today.

He needs his daughter to not be at college and his mother to not be busy with her acting school. He debates going to the precinct for all of three seconds. He can't sit there, looking at her empty chair, knowing she's at the hospital. Not again.

She hadn't sounded great on the phone, from what he'd managed to get out of her. Last week she'd whispered against his skin in the middle of the night how much it terrifies her to have to spend another night in hospital.

It terrifies him, too. Even now he dreams about it, the stomach-wrenching pallor of her skin, the lines of pain torn into her face. He does understand why she has to do this, of course he does, but that doesn't mean he's okay with it.

* * *

Doctor Harris is kind enough to warm the ultrasound gel before she applies it. Kate closes her eyes, listens to the doctor's quiet murmurings to the nurse. She doesn't think about the ultrasound, doesn't think about its connotations, doesn't think about the man that should be here with her.

She is most definitely not listening out for a second heartbeat.

Elyse marks a cross on Kate's right side, between two of her ribs. She wheels her chair over next to the bed, holds eye contact. "Okay. I know it's already been explained to you, but I'll just go through it again. We'll inject some local anaesthetic and give you something to help you stay calm in your IV if you need it. Then we insert the needle where I've marked and pull it back out quickly. You understand how important it is that you hold your breath for that. I'll tell you exactly when to hold it and when you can breathe again."

Kate nods, runs a hand down her face, her fingers curling at her mouth. "Okay. And you're gonna repeat it a few times?"

Elyse smiles, tugs on the edge of her surgical cap absent-mindedly. "No, just once is fine."

"Right." Kate chews on a fingernail, catches herself and drops both hands to her lap.

The doctor smiles again, her eyes brimming over with sympathy. "Nervous?"

Kate shrugs, bites her lip. "Not so much for the procedure. Just, hospitals, you know? After last year I was hoping to avoid spending another night in one."

Elyse takes her hand, squeezes it. "I understand. We'll try to make it as easy on you as possible. Where's Mr Castle, I assumed he'd be here?"

Kate laughs, ducks her head. "Are we that pathetic? No, I didn't want him here for the waiting. He'd just make the nerves worse. He's coming later."

Doctor Harris nods, stands up from her chair and moves it back out of the way. "Okay. From now on I'm going to ask that you try not to move. Erin, if you could prep the site?"

The nurse wipes Kate's ribs and stomach with antiseptic, lays a blue sheet with a hole in it over her abdomen. It makes her skin prickle and she has to fight not to shudder. She hears Elyse snap on sterile gloves, the needles clinking in the tray as she prepares the Lidocaine.

The doctor moves over to Kate's side, her fingers probing the marked out area. "Okay Kate. I'm going to inject the anaesthetic now. It'll sting a bit, sorry about that."

When the needle slides in Kate hisses through her teeth, closes her eyes and concentrates on breathing through the sharp sting. The numbness sets in quickly and Kate relaxes, forces the tension to drain out of her.

"Alright. I'm going to make a small incision to ease the passage of the needle. Tell me if you feel anything. Erin, signs all good?" Elyse glances over her shoulder at the nurse, her eyes flicking over the machine monitoring Kate's vital signs.

"Everything's fine." The nurse confirms, and then there's a bizarre pressure as Doctor Harris makes the incision.

It's all over so quickly after that, she feels the needle pushing in but there's no pain, just more pressure, and then there's a dressing put on the wound and she's wheeled back to the ward. Erin locks the wheels of the bed, hangs the IV bag and sets a cup of water on the nightstand. "Everything okay?"

Kate smiles, suddenly exhausted. Erin grins back, tugs the sheets up over Kate. "It's the drugs. You should sleep. I'll be checking for bleeding at the site and your blood pressure every hour, but I'll try not to wake you."

Her eyes are already closed.

* * *

He's so grateful that he's allowed to see her he could cry. The nurse, Erin, he thinks her name is, gets him a chair, lets him settle next to the bed.

"Did everything go okay?" He hopes he doesn't sound as pathetic as he feels. He wishes he could have been there, held her hand through it.

Erin smiles, her sympathy doing nothing to comfort him. "She did good. She should wake up pretty soon, and she can have a drink if she needs it."

He nods, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. He envelops Kate's hand in both of his, strokes his thumb along the delicate bones. He kisses her knuckles again and again, can't help himself. He's got her left hand, his gaze drawn to the empty space of her fourth finger.

He almost got her a ring for Christmas. He saw one in the window of Tiffany's, came so very close to buying it. Only, it's not fair to ask her to marry him in the midst of all of this, with her father in a hospital bed, with _her_ in the hospital more frequently than he'd like.

Really, honestly, he didn't think she'd say yes. That's why he didn't ask.

Her eyelids flutter, her head rolling to the side to look at him and he beams, stands up to press his lips to her forehead, breathe her in. She still smells like her underneath the sharp tang of antiseptic and he's inordinately grateful.

He sits back down on the edge of her bed, his fingertips tracing the side of her face. "Hey there beautiful. How are you?"

She smiles at him, her fingers circling his wrist. "Hi. Tired. Glad you're here."

He kisses her, then. Utterly can't help it. He keeps it soft, a tender press of his lips against hers. "I'm glad you're here too. Any pain?"

She grimaces, her hand coming up to hover over her right side but not touching. "Kinda feels like I've been punched."

He strokes his thumb under her eye, cards his hand through her hair. "I think you can have Tylenol for that. We can ask the nurse when she checks on you."

Kate groans, her eyes closing. "I'm not allowed to move until she tells me I can."

He kisses her cheek, sits back down in his chair next to the bed. "I can read to you if you want? Or just regale you with one of my fascinating stories."

She rolls her eyes at him, her hand reaching out. He takes it, squeezes, can sense how afraid she still is. "Can you just sit. I'll probably doze off again."

"Course, yeah. I'll let Erin know that you woke up, ask for some Tylenol. You hungry?" He's trying not to be overbearing, but all of this is just reinforcing how bad it would have been if she hadn't hidden from him after she'd been shot. He would have driven her crazy.

Her mouth cracks open on a yawn and she shakes her head. "No. Just tired. Sleeping now, Castle."

He kisses the inside of her wrist where her pulse thrums, her fingers curling at his cheek. "Okay. I'll be here when you wake up. Love you."

She hums, her hand dropping away from him. "You too."

* * *

She goes home with him, the nurse's instruction not to let her be alone for the next few days etched all over Castle's face, his determination and his delight.

He makes her get in bed, sets her up with his laptop and his Netflix account. She falls asleep with her face pressed into his bicep, his hand drawing lazy patterns on her thigh.

He wakes her up with chicken soup and warm bread, blankets and movies and his arms around her.


	11. Chapter 11

**January – Stage Three**

* * *

She comes to him with her coat, her scarf, already off, so that when he kisses her she's cold to the touch until he slips down to her neck, his nose nudging into her warmth. She sits on the edge of his desk, kicks her boots off and rests her socked feet on his thighs. He wraps his hands around them, his thumbs stroking the hard edge of bone at her ankles.

She hums, wriggles her toes underneath his palms and he grins, squeezes. "Hey."

"Hi." She slides off the edge of his desk, straddles his knees, her hands locked behind his neck. "You writing?"

He flicks his eyes to the laptop screen, back to her face. He hits the shortcut to save his document without looking, leers at her. "I was, but a much better prospect came along."

She's rolling her eyes even as she leans forwards, captures his mouth. His hands fall to her stomach, bracketing her waist and holding her steady as she sways atop his knees. He opens for her, welcomes the curious intrusion of her tongue, even now stunned when she grits out a moan. He's just utterly knocked out by her.

He pulls back a little, brushes a dusting of kisses across her cheekbone, imagines he can see her glowing with it. "Mm, Kate. New Years. You going to the hospital tonight?"

"Surprised you haven't asked before now. I thought you'd want to know if I'll be making your party." Her eyes are shining with mirth; her mouth cutting a teasing line across her face.

He shakes his head, bounces his knees a little to jostle her. "No party. I was hoping for a quiet night in with you, but if you want to see your dad I guess I'll just write."

She snorts, rolls her eyes at him. "You, just write? On New Years? Sure, Castle. Sure."

"Hey now." He starts indignant but his hand comes up to cup her cheek, thumb feathering over the freckle beneath her eye. "A party doesn't hold any appeal without you."

She sighs, nudges her head into his palm. "Castle-"

"I know." He pulls his hand away, lets her lace their fingers together. "I'm not trying to guilt trip you. I understand. I really do. You decide what you want to do and I'll work around it."

She ducks her head, her eyelashes so soft looking and delicate like charcoal. Sometimes he wakes up to the brush of them over his cheek, the curve of her lips at his chin as she whispers to him.

"I don't want to miss our first New Years." She swallows, raises her head to meet his eyes. "But I don't want to miss his last, either."

"Oh, Kate." He tugs her in to him, his hand cupping the back of her head against his chest. "We'll have more. We'll have so many more. You should be with your dad."

She lets out a shaky breath, collects herself. "Yeah. Okay. Would you, uh- would you call at midnight? I at least want to be the first to wish you a happy New Year."

It still gets him. The unexpected moments of sentimentality, the small gifts of herself she'll give him because she knows how he appreciates it. "Yes. Yeah, of course."

* * *

Her dad gives her a knowing look when her phone rings, chuckles as her cheeks flame. "I don't know why you get so embarrassed. You're thirty three years old, Katie. It's high time you let someone love you."

"Dad." She swats at his arm, sighs.

"Katie.

"What."

"Answer your phone."

She tugs it free from her pocket, presses accept just in time. "Hey."

Her father laughs again, Castle echoing him, their mirth in stereo. "Hey babe. What took so long?"

"Dad distracting me. Don't call me babe." Her father almost chokes and she sighs again, rolls her eyes at him as she stands up. She moves over to the window of his hospital room, turns her back on him.

"Sorry. Just slipped out." He doesn't sound sorry. She knows he's trying to wear her down, sneak it in when he thinks she won't notice.

"Sure."

"What kind of view do you have?" She tugs on the cord of the blinds, cracks them open, the buildings across the street sliced into strips.

She tries to see it the way he would, tries to paint the picture for him. "Buildings. All the lights are off in one of them, and the other has a few on. I can see the silhouette of a bunch of people in one of the windows. I don't know why they're looking out. Not like they'll see much from here. How about you?"

"I'm on the balcony. I see pretty much the same as you I guess. Buildings. Silhouettes. I can usually see the fireworks from here." There's no hint of sadness in his voice and she's glad. Of course she wishes she could be with him, get to kiss him as the bells chime, but this is good. It really is.

"Your kid and your mom both out?"

"Yeah." She wishes they weren't. She hates to think of him at the loft by himself. "Hey Kate? Can I come in?"

She turns around, sees him hovering in the doorway. She beams at him, hangs up and goes over, her body drawn to his. It's all in her stomach, a comfortable weight that settled sometime around the tiger and still tugs her to him now.

"What are you doing here?" She grins up at him, her eyes shining.

He kisses her cheek, takes her hand. "It suddenly hit me that there's no reason you can't have both of us."

Her father turns up the volume on the television in the room, hushes them. "Countdown's starting. Katie, would you move your head out of the way."

She steps to the side, her body pushing up against Castle's. He wraps an arm around her stomach, his chin resting on top of her head.

All three of them join in the countdown with the people on the television, and then Castle's breathing _one_ in her ear and spinning her around, his mouth crashing down onto hers. She fists her hands in his shirt, her mouth open for him.

When he pulls away she buries her face against the side of his neck for a moment, doesn't dare look at her father. Castle laughs, the vibrations of it rumbling through her chest. "It's okay, Jim. Safe to open your eyes."

Her father grins at them, extends a hand. "Come here, Katie."

She goes, bends down so he can kiss her cheek. "Happy New Year, sweetheart."

"Happy New Year, Dad."

* * *

"So, Kate. Rick. Dr Parish. You're all aware of what the procedure entails and the risks involved?" Elyse steeples her fingers, her gaze sweeping across all three of them from behind her desk.

Kate nods, steadfastly doesn't look at her partner or her best friend. Kate asked Lanie to come to the meeting with Dr Harris because she wants her to be there in the recovery period, wants her to be able to advise Castle.

She's not stupid. She knows that she's going to need help, that it'll be a fight back to full health. She doesn't doubt for a second that Castle will take good care of her. His bedtime reading lately has been research; he's taken to reading out fascinating facts about the liver to her. She just wants him to have somebody to go to if he needs advice.

Elyse told her early on that the bigger a support network she has, the faster her recovery. "Dr Harris," Lanie starts, "how soon will Kate be able to get home after the surgery?"

"All being well, within a week. Perhaps a little earlier than most people if she's going to have you around." The doctor smiles at them, most of it in her eyes.

The woman's optimism is quietly reassuring. Kate can't quite let herself panic, Elyse's calm blanketing her nerves.

Castle turns to Lanie, gazing at her over Kate's head. "You can stay in the guest room, Lanie. It'd make me feel better knowing you were there."

Kate nudges him, her eyebrows knit. "I thought_ I_ was staying in the guest room?"

"No, you can have my bed. Then you don't have stairs to tackle." His smile is soft all the time now, like he's practising for when she wakes up from surgery.

"Where will you go?"

He shrugs. "The couch. Or Alexis' room. That's not important."

Elyse laughs, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I suggest you work out the logistics before the surgery. The next step is to send your records to an independent assessor and then you'll meet with them so they can make sure we've followed procedure. And then we set a date for the surgery."


	12. Chapter 12

"Damn it." She grits her teeth, the line of her jaw tight as she unravels her braid, starts separating her hair again.

He goes over to her, can't help himself. He's not sure what she needs. He wants to touch her, hold her, try to soak her up just in case. "Kate?"

She closes her eyes as she turns to him, her head dropping forward so her crown hits his sternum. He sinks onto his knees in front of her, two fingers at her chin to make her look at him. "Hey."

He waits, his hand gentling at her thigh. She lets out a tremulous noise of frustration, shakes her head. "I need to braid my hair. It's unbearable otherwise. But my damn hands are shaking. I can't do it."

"Oh Kate." He takes her hands in his, his thumbs circling the too-prominent bones of her wrists. "I can do it if you want?"

She nods, slides off of her chair and onto the floor, settling in the vee of his legs. Her fists clench and unclench on his thighs, a metronome. He starts separating her hair, years of doing this for his daughter rushing back.

"I'm so scared." She doesn't have to say it. He can see it in the way she's holding herself so very carefully, the tremble of her hands, her stuttering breath.

She doesn't have to say it, but God, it means a lot that she does. He presses his mouth to the back of her neck, his arm dropping to wrap around her stomach and pull her back against him. He keeps a careful hold on the end of her braid, doesn't want to have to do it again.

She passes him a hair tie and he laughs softly, secures the braid and drops it over her shoulder. She turns to the side, curls up against his chest, his arms around her too tight, he knows. "Oh Kate. Sweetheart. It's okay. It's okay to be scared. But you're going to be fine. It's quite a low risk procedure, and Doctor Harris is going to take good care of you."

She moans, a low keening that makes his breath catch, his eyes close. "It's not the surgery. It's the aftermath. I don't want you to hate me."

"Kate, no, I- how could I hate you? Ever. No." He feathers his lips over her temple, tries to make her see.

She fists a hand in his shirt, her nose nuzzling his chest. "I was so awful last time. I don't _want_ to push you away but I'm not good at letting you see me hurt."

"That's not true." He wraps a hand around the back of her neck, his thumb stroking over her earlobe. "You let me hold you when we found out who was behind your mom's murder. You've let me be here through this whole thing with your dad. You're amazing."

Her eyes are closed, the skin of her eyelids so very fragile. He brushes his lips to them, waits for her to look at him. When she does, he smiles, tries to put everything in it. How amazed he is, even now, by how truly she's in this. How proud of her.

The corners of her mouth flicker, her hand coming up to trace over his nose. "I'm trying. More than I ever have before."

"I know. And that's why I'm not worried. Even if you try to push me out, I know a part of you wants me there. I'll appeal to that part until the rest of you can accept that I'm not going anywhere." He brings the end of her braid up, brushes it across her cheekbones, her jaw, until she cracks open on a grin.

She laughs, stands up, her hand out to him. He takes it, gets to his feet, his hands sliding into the back pockets of her jeans to bring her in for a kiss. She's so soft against him, pliant, letting him take what he needs.

"We should go," she breathes into his chin, dropping back to flat feet. He picks up her bag from on top of the dresser, hands it to her before she can even start giving him a look. He'll let her have whatever she needs, today, let her be in control.

He's still going to hold her hand.

* * *

She changes into her hospital gown in the bathroom, makes him wait outside. When she comes back out, walks around to the bed, he leers at her. She's glad for it, the normalcy.

"I like these backless gowns." He grins, his fingers skating up her spine and then slipping back down, his knuckles brushing over the curve of her butt.

She swats at him, steps away. "It's not backless."

"Okay. Sure."

She rolls her eyes, sits down on the bed and picks up her book, pointedly not looking at him. He growls low in his throat, climbs onto the bed and crowds her, his hands planted either side of her hips. His mouth meets hers, insistent, and she pulls back.

"Stop it. The nurse'll be here any minute. I don't want her to catch us making out like teenagers." She pushes on his chest and he sits back from her, captures her hand and holds it to his chest.

There's amusement shining in his eyes, but behind it something else. Something like-

Oh. "Castle. You do know this isn't going to be your last chance to kiss me?"

He smiles sheepishly, his shoulders coming up. "Am I that transparent? I know it's not, I just can't help it. It scares me, Kate."

She flattens her palm against his chest, her other hand coming up, fingers feathering at his jaw. "It scares me too. But I'm going to be fine. And you can kiss me when I wake up. I'm gonna need the endorphins."

He laughs, eases the book from her hands. It's his, but not Nikki. _Death of a Prom Queen_. "You want me to read to you?"

She darts forward, kisses him, a gentle press of her mouth to his, and then she's settling back against the pillows, gesturing for him to start.

He opens the book in the middle, knows she likes to start right in the heart of the story. He's barely a paragraph in when the nurse shows up, her eyes soft as she watches them.

Kate nudges him, nods towards the doorway where the nurse hovers and he stops, closes the book. "How are you feeling, Kate?"

Beckett smiles, shrugs. "As good as I can expect, I guess."

She can't remember the nurse's name; she makes a mental note to ask Castle later. The woman smiles back, comes further into the room. "Alright. Well, now I'm going to insert your IV and then we'll take you up for a chest x-ray and an ECG. Mr Castle, if you could move."

The nurse laughs at Castle's mock devastation, how he drags himself off of the bed and into a chair. "Please, Rick is fine. Am I allowed to stay with her?"

"I'm going to ask you to wait outside for the x-ray, but the ECG we'll do in here and you'll be free to annoy her the whole way through." Kate snorts at him even as he's opening his mouth to protest.

"You know she's right, Castle." The hurt in his eyes is too real; she reaches a hand out to him. He comes to her and she tugs him into a one-armed hug, her face buried against his stomach. She pulls back, smiles up at him. "Hey. You help more than you know. Now go sit quiet while she does the IV."

* * *

Everything comes back clear, the x-ray and the ECG both showing that she's completely healthy. The nurse leaves them alone for a moment after she's removed the electrodes from Kate's chest. She rubs at the sticky mark they left, winces.

Castle's watching from his chair, her hand still cradled in both of his. "Hey. You okay?"

He shakes his head a little, blinks at her. "Isn't that my question?"

"You're allowed to be scared too. I know this can't be easy for you."

He gets up, sits on the edge of her bed, kisses her forehead, her cheek. "Don't worry about me. My main concern is making this as easy on you as I can."

She buries her face against his neck, sucks in a deep breath that tastes like him. She could never have known even a year ago how much easier things would be with him to lean on and she's so very grateful. "Thanks. You make this whole thing manageable."

He kisses the top of her head, his hand stroking down her arm. "You're welcome."

* * *

He almost crumbles when they take her from him. He's allowed to walk by the side of her bed all the way to theatre but she won't let him hold her hand. He doesn't mind. When they stop outside the double doors he tilts her face towards him, kisses her.

"I love you, Kate." He has to swallow back his grief, clench his fists to keep himself calm.

She smiles up at him, her eyes shining. "I love you too."

He goes back in for a hug, sucks in a lungful of her scent just in case. "I'll be right there when you wake up, I promise."

He steps back, watches them wheel her away.

He's still there when the nurse comes back out and she smiles sympathetically at him, her hand falling to his arm. He wants to shrug her off, wants to not be touched by anyone until he knows that Kate's coming back. If that was his last touch from her he wants it to stay on his skin forever.

"Mr Castle, let me show you to the waiting room. Can I get you anything at all?" Her eyes are too tender, too knowing.

He shakes his head, chokes out a self-deprecating laugh. "Just bring her back safe. That's all I need."


	13. Chapter 13

"Dad?" His daughter pushes the door to the waiting room open with her hip, her arms full. He gets to his feet, goes over to her and takes the duffle bag from her, his eyebrow raised in question.

Alexis shrugs at him, her hair falling over one shoulder. "I figured you'd want to use your charms to convince the nurses to let you stay the night, but you didn't pack a bag, so-"

He drops the duffel to the floor, crushes his little girl in a hug, careful to avoid the coffee in her other hand. "Thank you so much, pumpkin. I didn't even think about that."

She shrugs, steps back from his grip. "I figured. In there is also the book that was on your nightstand and your phone charger. I didn't bring your laptop in case you're not allowed it, but I can always go home and get it for you."

"Oh Alexis. You really didn't have to do all that. I know how busy you are." He takes the coffee she hands to him, sips it with his eyes closed, the warmth slipping easily down his throat.

She smiles softly, her eyes so tender on his. "I know how much you care about her, Dad. I know how hard this is going to be for you to watch. I just want to make it easier on you."

He laughs at that, picks up the duffel again and goes back over to his chair, gestures for his daughter to sit. "It's tough, yeah. The waiting. You know how I feel about patience."

"I know that you hate not being in control, that there's nothing you can do to keep her safe." Her words gut him and she must see it on his face because then she's rushing to apologise, her cheeks pink. "Sorry. Probably not helpful."

He forces a smile for her, both hands wrapped around his cup. "It's okay. You're right. It's hard. I'm just trying to stay hopeful."

He won't shelter her from it. She's old enough, mature enough to be able to handle it. "I'm sorry Dad. Do you want me to stay?"

He shakes his head at her, his thumb flicking at the rim of his travel cup. "Not if you have class. I don't want this to disrupt your life."

"I don't have class. I'm good to be here all day."

* * *

He cradles her hand, traces the too-visible bones over and over, tries to leech some of his warmth into her. Presses a kiss to the translucent skin and closes his eyes, his breath breaking on a sob. "Kate. Please wake up. Please. You're scaring me."

It's been two hours since the doctor said she'd be waking up. The nurses don't understand it; keep telling him all her vitals are normal and everything looks good, as if that helps.

If there's no reason, there's nothing to say she's ever coming back to him.

Erin, the nurse who helped at the biopsy, is here. She's not supposed to be, but Doctor Harris took one look at Castle's face and got her down here. He's glad for the familiar face, glad that the nurse knows Kate, knows her history.

She checks Kate's vital signs again, notes them down on her chart. "Mr Castle?"

"Yeah?" He doesn't bother to look at her, doesn't dare tear his gaze away from Kate in case her eyelids flicker again or her mouth twitches.

Erin seems to understand, carries on regardless of his detachment. "Is there any medication she could have forgotten to tell us about?"

"She stopped taking birth control like you said, so no."

He thinks back, remembers last night. The way she'd trembled in his arms, still been awake and thrumming with restlessness even as he'd drifted off. He remembers her getting up, rummaging in the nightstand drawer for-

Oh. Shit. "Erin. Erin, she's been taking Ambien the past couple of nights. She's been scared, couldn't sleep. Shit."

The nurse's hand falls to his shoulder, squeezes. "Don't panic. This is good news. Ambien just adds to the effects of anaesthesia, but it's harmless. She's just going to take a little while longer to wake up than we were expecting."

"Oh thank God. Okay. Thank you." He breathes a shaky sigh, his head bowing so his forehead hits her mattress.

"I'll go and tell Doctor Harris, get her to do a more thorough check of Kate's vitals, but she'll be fine."

He doesn't look up, doesn't watch the nurse leave the room, too busy scanning Kate for any sign of awareness.

If she doesn't-

If-

God. He can't- he won't make it if she doesn't come back to him.

* * *

Consciousness comes back to her in waves. Sound comes first, the metronomic beep of all the monitors, her labored breathing. A so-familiar voice cracking with desperation.

He's asking her to wake up, pleading with her over and over, and she's trying. She is. It's like wading through a river in the darkness, no idea if the bank is ten feet or ten centimetres away. She focuses all her energy, her chest heaving as she manages to wriggle her fingers just a little.

There's a gasp, a hand sliding up her arm to cup her cheek, something warm pressing to her forehead. "Kate. You're awake. Oh thank God."

His voice is enough; she can get her eyes open, make the corners of her mouth twitch for him. She tries to speak, finds her voice a dry and scratching thing in her throat. He lifts a cup for her, guides a straw past her lips, the water so wonderfully cool. She's slow, careful, remembering how she threw up after she woke up last time because she drank too quickly.

"Castle," she gets out, her hand fluttering helplessly.

He sits on the bed next to her hip, cradles her hand in both of his. Kisses her forehead again and again, his mouth open and branding. "Kate. You scared me."

Her eyes flutter closed, her head dropping back to the pillow. "How long was I out?"

"About twice as long as you should have been. Because of the Ambien." He keeps his voice steady, but the hard edge of his jaw, the way he clings to her hand, all of it tells her how scared he was.

She manages to lift her other hand through a haze of numbness, rests it at his thigh. "Sorry."

"It's okay. You're okay. Any pain?" He travels over her body with his fingertips, careful not to touch her anywhere.

She closes her eyes, listens to her body, the reluctant crack of her nerve endings. "Mm. Fuzzy. It'll hit me later, don't worry."

She grins at him, feels some of the light come back to her face. He strokes a hand down the side of her face, kisses her so very carefully. "You are so beautiful."

"How's my dad?" She swallows the sudden knot of nausea in her throat, battles it back. If he wasn't fine Castle would have told her by now. He would.

He beams at her, his eyes creasing at the corners. "He's good. Awake and asking after you. Everything looks like it went well. It's just staving off infection and waiting to see if his body rejects your tissue, now."

"Asking after me? You saw him?"

Castle shakes his head, raises eyes to her that are unashamedly wanting. "Haven't left your side. Mother and Alexis checked up on him when the nurse told me he was awake."

Erin comes in, then, her whole face lightening when she sees Kate. "Oh, Kate. You're awake. Awesome. I'll just check your vitals. You in any pain, honey?"

"Not yet. Just tired." Kate watches Erin read all the different monitors, note down the results, her face carefully impassive.

The nurse hangs the chart at the end of the bed, smiles. "Everything looks great. I was just coming to tell Rick that visiting hours are over."

"No." Castle bristles, his grip on her hand too tight, his eyes dark. "I'm not leaving."

Erin shakes her head, laughs softly. "I wasn't going to even try. I just wondered if you wanted me to get a bed for you? Elyse said you're good to stay in here tonight."

"Oh," he breathes, delight flooding across his face. "Yeah. Thank you. I can help you set it up?"

"Nothing fancy, I'm afraid. And no, I don't want to draw any more attention to it than I have to." Erin leaves the room then, still smiling at them.

Kate shifts a little in the bed, manages to stifle a groan. Awareness is creeping back to her now, her body starting to ache. It's bearable now, but she can tell already that it's going to hurt like a bitch later. "She's sweet," she grits out to distract herself.

"Yeah. She's great. Kept me calm." He kisses her forehead again, strokes his thumb under her eye. "You should sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up."

She wants to smile, say thank you, kiss him, but she's already gone.

* * *

He's struggling with the tightness of her jaw, the pain she keeps so carefully below the surface. It's because his mother and his daughter and Lanie are all here to help settle her in the loft, he knows.

She cried into his shoulder this morning as he helped her get dressed. She only spent four days in the hospital and she's only allowed out now because Lanie will be staying with them and because Elyse thinks she'll get better faster without the hospital atmosphere dragging at her.

He gets his arm more firmly around her waist, careful not to touch the surgery site, his other hand cupping her elbow. Lanie ushers them straight through, tutting at him. "No wheelchair?"

"She wouldn't. Promised me she was good to walk." He hates himself for it, but he wanted to see her in a chair about as much as she wanted to get in one.

Lanie's scowling even as she helps him manoeuvre Kate into the bed, tugs the covers up. "You're going to have to get used to ignoring her when she says she's fine, Writer Boy."

"You guys do know I'm here?" Kate laughs, but it's weak, her eyes closing.

He sits by her hip, strokes her hair back from her face. "Sorry. You okay?"

"So tired. Need a hug."

He looks to Lanie, doesn't even have to speak before she's nodding at him. "I won't hurt you?"

Kate shakes her head, winces even as she does so. "Can't be any worse."

He goes around to the other side of the bed, gets under the covers and edges over to her, lets her make the first move. She grits her teeth, rolls to the side, her head pillowed on his chest. He slides his arm around her shoulders, his other hand settling at her hip.

She whimpers, her breath hot against him. Lanie brushes a hand through her friend's hair, pokes Castle. "I'll be in the living room with Martha and Alexis. Anything doesn't seem right, she's in more pain than she can handle, _anything_, you come get me right away. Got it?"

"I got it."


	14. Chapter 14

_Happy birthday, Pau! I love you._

* * *

**Epilogue**

* * *

"Castle?"

He's never been so glad to hear the ME's voice, his knees almost giving out. He tucks the phone between his jaw and his shoulder, both hands free. He gets one at Kate's lower back, rubs soothing circles, the other already going numb in the vice of her grip.

"I'm taking her to the hospital, Lanie. Now."

"Okay, I'll meet you there. Just make sure she keeps breathing."

Kate moans, an animal sound mostly in her chest that sounds like it catches on every vertebra on the way out. He hangs up the phone, has to take his hand away from her spine to do so, slip it into his pocket.

He steps around in front of her, lets her ease her weight onto his shoulder, head bowed and body curving. "God, this hurts."

"I know. I know Kate. I'm so sorry. Can you walk to the car?"

She straightens slowly, sucks in a breath through her teeth. "Yes. But I need to lean on you."

They make it to the elevator before another wave of pain tears through her, nausea roiling in his stomach when her face blanches. Her teeth cut in to her bottom lip so hard it's already bleeding; her closed eyes making her lashes bleed like ink onto her cheeks.

"Castle." She grits out, and he swears he feels his thumb click out of joint.

He smooths his hand over her hair, traces the weaving pattern of her braid. "I know. Almost there. You're gonna be okay."

In the lobby, Eduardo the doorman takes one look at them and goes hails a cab, coming back inside to meet them after a moment.

"Ed, I need you to call my mother, get her to meet me at the hospital with Kate's bag."

"Yes, Mr Castle. Anything else I can do?"

He's half out the door already; Kate kept close at his side, her body so taut that she's trembling with it. "No thanks."

In the cab she can't sit still, the pain making her shift in her seat, a low keening pouring out of her that she doesn't even seem to be aware of.

His heart kicks against his ribcage, whole body coursing with adrenaline. He doesn't touch her now, not since she batted him away, but oh God does he want to.

She turns flooding eyes to him, the seam of her mouth trembling even as her jaw locks with determination. "Castle. Oh God. God. What's happening?"

He doesn't have an answer.

* * *

He glances up to see Doctor Harris poking her head around the door, hair cascading around her shoulders again. She smiles when she sees him, steps fully through the door.

He stands to greet her, hates to leave Kate's side. It feels like he leaves a piece of himself with her for safekeeping when he has to let go of her hand.

Elyse shakes his hand, the valleys at the corners of her eyes deepened with her smile. "Rick. She's sleeping?"

"Yeah, finally. She wouldn't close her eyes." He shakes his head, a grin leaking onto his face.

Elyse nods at that, runs a hand through her hair. She looks exhausted, and the tiny part of him not reserved for thoughts of Kate realises that she must have been on her way home. He cups Doctor Harris' elbow, leads her further into the room.

"Did you want to meet him?"

She nods again, her eyes already on the bassinet.

He goes, sliding his hands carefully underneath the tiny bundle of warmth, one hand spanning the baby's entire back and the other cradling the so-soft head, fingers brushing slightly through the thick cap of dark hair.

Castle brings him up to his chest, holds him nestled over his own heart for a moment. The heat of the baby against him still has him reeling, his tongue a swollen and useless thing when faced with the prospect of putting words to this.

His hands dwarf the tiny body; eyes like the birth of a storm gazing up to meet him. He shares a quiet moment with the boy, dusts his mouth very carefully to the crown of his head, and then he's turning.

"Elyse. This is-" he has to pause a second, catch his breath, carefully to keep still so as not to startle the baby. "This is my son."

"_Our_ son, Castle. Don't forget who did all the work."

His gaze snaps to Kate. His wife.

His _wife_, and their son stirring in his arms.

Elyse turns as well, grinning at Beckett. "Hey Kate. Congratulations. He is beautiful."

"Yeah. He is. So early though." Kate holds an arm out, fingers curling, and even though she's a few feet away she might as well be hooked around his waist, so powerful is the draw to her.

He goes, eases down to sit at her hip and passes the baby over, making sure she has him securely first. She's still exhausted; he can read it in the half-focus of her eyes, the loose and fluid line of her shoulders and arms.

"He looks good. Not even too jaundiced. He's a fighter like his mom, huh?" Elyse grins at them but Kate's not even listening, the weight of their son in her arms deafening and blinding her all at once.

Her head bows, lips meeting their son's forehead, her hair falling in a curtain around the two of them that he burns to be a part of. Kate edges over to the side of the bed, pats the empty space next to her without even looking at Castle, her eyes still roving over the baby's face, drinking him in.

Their baby. Their son.

He can't believe that it's real, that he's really here so soon. They hadn't expected him for another six weeks, but the boy is strong, has already proven a healthy set of lungs.

Castle slides an arm around Kate's shoulders and she eases back against him, head falling to rest against him. He raises his knees and eases their son onto the slope of his thighs so they can both look at him, Kate tracing a line down the center of the boy's face with the tip of a finger.

When Castle glances up, Elyse is slipping out of the room, her eyes on them until the last second. She flutters three fingers at him in farewell and he nods, not even bothering to watch her go. How can he, when the most perfect baby he has ever seen is right here, fussing against his legs.

"I think he wants you." He presses a kiss to Kate's temple, hovers there for a moment to breathe her in.

She eases her hands under their son and Castle is still so very surprised at how content the baby seems, how he doesn't mind being passed back and forth between his parents. "Hey baby. It's Mommy. I'm right here."

She brings the boy up to nestle against her chest, his tiny mouth open and rooting at her collar bone. "Oh God, Kate. He looks so much like you."

Their son's head turns to follow the sound of his father's voice, lazy eyes blinking up at him. "Oh wow. Wow. Look at him."

A tiny fist comes up and Rick touches his fingertip to his son's palm, watches in wonder as the boy's fingers curl around his own. Kate brings her own hand up to cover the baby's, all three of their skins kissing.

He brushes his mouth to Kate's, his free hand coming up to hover at her jaw, hold her in place. "God, I love you. I love you so much. Thank you for our son."

"I can't believe he's here." She shakes her head at him, eyes filling again.

He kisses her, bends to kiss the baby's cheek too. His family. Oh-

"Mother and Alexis will be back in the morning, and the boys and Lanie too."

"Okay. I'm-" she flicks her eyes at him, already going back to their son before he can even school his face into something more acceptable than overwhelming adoration. "I'm glad. Is that bad? I just want some time to get to know him, just the three of us."

"Me too. He's got such a personality already." Castle breathes a laugh, can't stop it from bubbling out of him.

He's just so in awe of this little thing that wasn't even here four hours ago but now is all he can think about, the focal point of the whole room.

Kate watches their baby, hair sweat-curled around her neck, her lashes drifting like shadows as she battles to stay awake.

"You are so beautiful. Kate. So beautiful."

He chokes on his awe, his gratitude, has to turn back to the baby because his son is somehow easier for him to watch, the innocent little face so knowing already.

Her jaw cracks wide on a yawn, the baby's little fist flailing against his mother's chest. Castle takes their boy, cradling him against his chest again and shifting away from Kate just a little.

She keens, her hand flying out to wrap tight around his bicep. "Where are you going?"

"Just giving you room to sleep. I'll stay right here. Neither of us is going anywhere."

She eases herself down, curling up with her head resting in his lap. He turns their son around so he's face to face with his mother, their noses almost brushing. Kate sighs, her slender fingers wrapping around the baby's ribcage, her eyes already shut.

Castle runs a hand over her crown, covers her hand with his own, feels the heat of their son bleeding through the gaps in her fingers.

How he loves them both.

* * *

_And so we reach the end of this fic. I'm not really sure where exactly this epilogue came from but I think I like it. Thank you for joining me on this journey and being so wonderfully supportive._

_And once again, happy birthday Pau. I cannot put into words how blessed I feel to have the pleasure of knowing and loving such a wonderful soul. I hope the next year brings you all the good things you so deserve._


End file.
